The Oak Has Fallen: The Black Seedling
Blacktree Hall, Western Owkrestos, Klironomea.
The Seventh Day of the Sixth Moon, 830 AD.
Aertax stood by the bedside of his father. So, this was it then. The man was finally dead.
Good riddance. There was no place for such a snivelling fool at the head of one of the many Blackoak houses, let alone at the head of the very dynasty itself. There was no need for men like father.
Men like father were the sort of people that the dull-eyed and dull-witted called 'good'. The sort of men people created love ballads about. What did witless romantics know of ruling a lordly house? Of ruling half a kingdom? Very little, he would wager. Very little indeed.
Father had always had a mind for fancies. In the throes of his illness, even as he lay dying, he wouldn't stop trying to get to the damned Black Oak sapling in the courtyard. He'd needed to be drugged to his ears to stop trying to fight his way past the physician and the guards at the door to get to the bloody tree that had been his family's strangest source of obsession for so long. He had died no different from grandfather in that regard.
Well, there was no sense in staring at the man's corpse any longer. The Black Grave wasn't known to linger on corpses, not outside of peasant superstitions at least, but Aertax had no wish to remain next to it nonetheless. Besides, he had work to do. A great deal of work.
It would have to start with the matter of this 'regency council' that had been hastily put together for him. There was no chance he was willing to share his rule with a cabal of power-hungry, spineless bureaucrats. The first order of business would be showing them the door before their jobs had even begun, and then he'd see to surrounding himself with councillors of loyalty and merit, not of lordly-wannabes.
He would have a great many men and women of talent to pick from as well; house Blackoak and its appendages were vast indeed, almost rivalling the truly huge houses of eastern Klironomea in the number of living members they boasted, so it was hardly like he was going to struggle to find good talent amongst them. He needed that good talent by his side as well, for although he knew his own capabilities well he also knew that many would not take kindly to being ruled over by a boy of twelve years. He would need people who had seen more winters than he had to mollify the fears and anger of those around him when he started making sure that only the worthy took their place at his side.
He strode out of the chamber where father had been laid, and immediately set himself to move towards the council chamber where he knew that the assembled hangers-on of fathers reign were waiting to play at being lords.
Well, he hated to inform them of this but there was no vacancy for such a position. Not while he, Aertax Blackoak of Blacktree Hall, was still alive.
He motioned for Ser Tyros, a cousin of his who had served as a mentor and friend for a great many years to fall in at his side. Tyros was older than him by some considerable margin, around twenty years older, and was skilled both as a soldier and a steward. He seemed to be a good man to keep close when a bunch of artists and musicians masquerading as nobility needed to be told, in no uncertain terms, that whilst his father may have been weak enough to want their services he had no such desires for their continued presence in his halls. They could remain if they wished, but not as councillors. Not as advisors. They would be told that they would stick to their talents, or they could leave and find employment elsewhere. He would not stand for fools in his council chambers.
"It's time, then?"
He nodded at Tyros.
"It is time. Show them out, cousin."
The man nodded back once and, all but slamming the door open with far more force than was really necessary, signalled the guards outside the door into the council chambers.
"Your lordship," the first of them began, "the council is terribly-"
Aertax cut them off before they could continue.
"The six of you are councillors no longer. You may continue to lend your services as artists and musicians to the court, but you are not advisors. You may vacate the chambers immediately."
One or two of them men might have looked cowed, but the rest were a mix of incredulous and affronted. He wasn't surprised of course, for such men used to being given much for so little work weren't keen on having it taken away from them.
"Lord Blackoak, I must protest!" The first advisor spoke up again, the only one who had the chance to do so. "It is through the guidance of myself and my peers that this castle and keep has been able to become a bastion of artistry and song, the likes of which... we... haven't... seen..."
The man's voice trailed off as Aertax stared impassively at him with a raised eyebrow whilst Tyros slowly, deliberately, drew his sword from its scabbard. The two of them were silent, as were the spear-wielding guards who had been at the doors and seemed to be finding this whole affair rather bewildering but not entirely unexpected. The silence in the room was not unexpected or even particularly awkward, and the two advisors who had looked somewhat cowed almost looked as though they'd expected this outcome, but it still seemed like an important silence nonetheless.
He stilled his thoughts and corrected himself for a moment. There was no such thing as an 'important' silence. There was only silence, no matter what went on within it. It was just silence.
Aertax motioned towards the door with a sharp nod of his head.
"Go. You will still be paid by Blackoak coin and housed in Blackoak beds, but real advisors will be taking your place in the council chambers. There will be no more protesting here. Goodbye."
And then, just like that, the six useless men walked out of the room. That was all it had taken; a few men with spears, a knight with a sword, and a twelve year old with a sense of gravitas about him. That was all that was needed to uproot father's council who were meant to be overseeing his regency for the next four years, and who had instead lasted less than one day.
Useless, weak men. All of them.
"Well done cousin," Tyros' voice rang out as the guards moved back outside the room and Aertax moved to sit at the head of the councillors table, "you've already done more for this house than your father."
Aertax nodded, and motioned to the seat by his immediate right at the table.
"I know. Tyros, you're a man I can trust on a great many issues. I'd like to offer you a position at my right hand, literally and metaphorically. We'll need to get some more councillors in of course, but you seem to be a solid start."
The man smiled and took the proffered seat.
"I'd be honoured to accept the position, cousin. Let's see if we can't see to forcing a rebirth of our great house, shall we?"
Aertax nodded, smiling back.
"Yes, indeed we shall."
He felt strange, sitting at the table after so long spent watching a lesser man sit in the very same spot. His feet barely touched the ground, for father's chair was large and he was short even for his young age, but he knew for a fact that even with his borderline diminutive size he would stand taller than father ever had.
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The next three years passed in a frenzied and yet meticulously planned series of plots and ploys. He had worked himself hard to ensure his place as a lord of the realm, to ensure he was not overlooked by the arrogant fools he was now forced to call his peers, and more importantly to ensure that none of the other branches of house Blackoak thought that having a child for a head of their dynasty made for an opportune time to cull the family tree a little and put themselves in the top position. Yes, he had worked hard since dismissing those useless advisors the day after father had died three years ago, but there was still so much more to do. He would be doing a disservice to his house if he believed anything else.
Today, however, he was in with more than a little bit of luck. Not luck, he chided himself. These moves were carefully planned out. There was no luck involved.
Regardless as to whether or not luck had been involved, he'd been able to take stock of a few factors and had arranged a marriage between cousin Eorith Blackoak and the elderly Lord Foredaw with the hopes that an alliance between their two houses might be made. When the elderly lord had fucking died at the climax of his coupling with cousin Eorith, well, he'd not wasted any time to act. He'd given cousin Eorith specific instructions as the head of the house to ensure that any children she had were born with the Blackoak name, with the promise that she'd sit as the sole ruling lady of Copseshield as soon as she'd birthed the children and declared them part of 'House Blackoak of Copseshield', which would be the latest and fifth cadet branch of their mighty family. Of course such a matter wasn't strictly legal, but a company of armsmen and guards sent from Blacktree Hall to 'keep the peace' coupled with a few vague platitudes should have been enough to provide the king with a fait accompli.
So long as cousin Eorith birthed a healthy boy.
And so he had sat around and waited. For seven months he had sat and waited, praying to Demea the Angel of Fertility as well as Hydran and the First Saint, praying that the babe wasn't a stillborn.
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Today was the day he'd finally received the good news. Cousin Eorith had not only survived her pregnancy, but she had delivered twins! Earlier than the physicians would have liked them to be birthed, but apparently they seemed perfectly healthy nonetheless. The guards were already in place, cousin Eorith had ensured that her declaration of rulership over the former lands of house Foredaw had been drafted months ago, and he was ready to speak with the king if needs be.
Not that he was particularly worried about speaking with the man. Owkrestos knew that house Blackoak was the strongest house, the spine of their kingdom, and as such the words of so arrogant and feckless a man would surely bend in his favour with only the slightest hint of force. The plan would succeed, for Aertax would accept no other option.
Tyros swept into the council chambers, which had been vacant sans Aertax himself until now. Aertax always made sure he was first to their council meetings, and Tyros was always second. Always. The man never appeared more than a quarter of an hour after Aertax himself did, which was impressive as Aertax was always there an hour early. He guessed that the man always wanted to be early himself, but didn't want to overstep by arriving before Aertax.
Good. Tyros was a good man for small things like that. A good man for the big things as well. The knight was good to have at his right hand.
"It worked then, so I hear?"
Aertax nodded by way of confirmation. There was nothing more that needed to be said.
"You're to speak with the king soon then?"
"The ravens will fly tomorrow," he replied, "I want this done fast and I want it done properly. We're not going to leave anything up to chance here."
Tyros nodded, seeming pleased with the response.
"Good. Very good. If you give the word I'll see to organising a meeting of the heads of the different branches of our family. They'll need to be united under their patriarch fully for the next few moons, just in case cousin Eorith's ascension to Lady of Foredaw goes less than smoothly."
"Do it. Have them all meet here, and ensure we have the necessary foods and wines to host their number comfortably. Make it clear that we are not asking for their attendance, but do not be impolite nonetheless."
Tyros grinned widely.
"Oh I will cousin, I will. The Kindling's Ash branch of the family have been getting uppity again, citing the ancestral significance of their stronghold. It will be good to remind them of their place."
Aertax barely stopped himself from sneering. The Blackoaks of Kindling's Ash had always been proud, too proud, of the fact that their castle had once been the site of the main branch of the family. Well, it mattered not a jot anymore. The Black Oak from which the family had taken its name had been scorched centuries, nay, a millennia ago. The Silence had seen to the end of the symbol of their family, save only the sapling that had been planted in Blacktree Hall. Even if the tree had still stood, what difference would that have made? A pagan symbol did not a realm make, and Kindling's Ash was half the size of Blacktree Hall. Tyros was right; it would be good to remind his cousins at Kindling's Ash that his branch of the family was the head of the house, not theirs. They were a cadet house, and nothing more.
"They're too proud. It will be their undoing one day. Sometimes I think it would be easier to cull that branch of the family and send you there to take charge of the castle instead."
Tyros chuckled.
"I'm flattered cousin, and if it weren't for the fact that we'd see the label 'kinslayer' added to our house for such actions I'd tell you to go ahead. They're too proud. At the very least the establishment of a new cadet branch at Foredaw will ensure we have a loyal counterbalance to Kindling's Ash."
Aertax nodded. It would indeed, which was another reason he was pleased with this. The greater the reach of his family extended the further his relatives slipped from his grasp, and so he needed good and loyal relatives to keep the unruly and the ambitious in line.
When he had a few sons of his own he would probably end up seizing the lands of a few of the most dangerous cadet branches and folding them into the lands of the main branch of the house, but until such a time as he had a few sons to look to the administration of those lands there was little point in voicing such an ambitious and radical plan.
He would not want to give Tyros the wrong impression, not after all the man had done to help him already.
"Call the family council", he instead replied, "for we have much to do."
There was silence for a few moments, and he turned to Tyros to see if the man had paid attention to what he said. The man was positively beaming at him, as though Aertax's actions had been everything the older man had been waiting for in a family patriarch.
"You're a man now," Tyros said in a proud voice, "more of a man than your father ever could have dreamed of being."
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It had been seven years since the events of that day, and at last it seemed as though another opportunity for house Blackoak to prove itself, to show the world that it was the only real power in Owkrestos, had provided itself before them.
House Greymist, the lords of Miststone Hill and all its surrounding lands, had finally had enough of King Aered's weakness and inability to effectively rule. Aertax knew why of course; the king had been extorting money from his lords in a manner that far outpaced any measure of restraint that their feudal contracts would demand, and for that matter all of the gold that seemed to pour into the royal house seemed to disappear as soon as it was gathered.
What that weak fool of a king could possibly need so much money for was beyond him.
Still, he understood well the want and the need to depose the king. He had been tempted initially to throw in with the rebellious Greymist and raise his banners against the king, but such an opportunity to expand the reach of house Blackoak in a way that the rest of the lords of Owkrestos would be unable to complain about was an even greater temptation.
So it was that he had summoned Ser Tyros, now a man in his early forties, and ordered him to bring together the armies for war.
He'd not actually led men into battle before, nor would he really need to, but he at least needed to wear his armour and bear his sword in the camps with his men so that they knew he was there alongside them, fighting against a rebellious lord that sought to depose their king.
The men didn't know that he harboured similar wishes, that being the destruction of house Wyldlarch's grip on power, but such thoughts would be unwise to voice in the midst of this war.
The thing that had been perhaps the greatest surprise was that the rebellious lord's wife had actually been the first one to rally men against the rebellion. She had scorned her own husband to fight for the weak and feckless King Aered Wyldlarch, and in doing so had humiliated not only her husband but also every other lord who had not yet raised up their arms against the rebels. It had only been his own willingness to seize the opportunity to depose another lordly house of Owkrestos that had stopped him from being humiliated as well.
And so he had marched his forces to meet with those of the erstwhile Lady Greymist and, after a short meeting in which she and cousin Tyros seemed to give each other more than one passing glance, they had elected to work together under his command.
All of that had led him to now. Here he was, armed and armoured, sword in its scabbard by his belt and the many banners of the various branches of his house surrounding his camp, ready to oversee the final assault on Miststone Hill. The castle had been aptly named; situated atop a steep hill of around a hundred metres in height and half-consumed with a thin, wispy fog, it definitely appeared to have been appropriately titled.
"Lord Blackoak."
Aertax turned a little upon hearing the voice of his most trusted councillor.
"Ser Tyros."
"The men are ready, Lord. The ramp-path up to the gates will be treacherous and many of the men will find themselves dead by the end of the day, but by the end of it-"
"This rebellion will be over."
Tyros nodded at him, then turned to face the castle.
"Aye. Then the rebellion will be over, and we can turn our minds to what comes after."
Aertax turned to face the castle once more as well, still speaking to Tyros without looking at the man.
"There's no need; I have already decided what comes after."
His right-hand man made a noise of understanding. Not of confusion or annoyance that Aertax had made the decision without him, but of understanding that Aertax was the rightful head of the family and as such his word was law to them. It was what made his decision that much easier, in all honesty.
"Indeed, I know what will come next. You and Lady Greymist love each other, or at least find each other attractive enough to bed. Lord Greymist will be killed, you'll take Lady Greymist to wed, and you'll be made Lord Tyros Blackoak of Miststone Hill."
From the corner of his eye Aertax could just about make out the grin spreading on Tyros' face.
"Well, far be it from me to deny the word of the head of the family. Far be it from me indeed. In that case I suppose I'd better start giving some thought to repairing this castle after today, shouldn't I?"
Aertax grunted.
"You'll have some support from Blacktree Hall, cousin. Think of this as a reward for a decade of honest and true service to your house. You deserve this more than some of our cousins do, far more. So long as I can continue to trust you to keep the cadet branches in line, so long as you remain true, I think Miststone Hill will do well by you. Apologies if you find the place a little too austere."
Tyros waved away his concerns.
"Cousin, Miststone Hill is defensible and sturdy with good lands attached. It's bigger than many castles in Owkrestos as well, though not being one of the largest. I'm more than happy with this, should you wish it to be mine."
Aertax just nodded again as the first wave of attackers began making their way up the ramp leading to the gates of the castle, arrows and stones raining down upon them all the way.
"Then it will be done. Tell the former Lady Greymist that she is to become a Blackoak in the coming days, and see to producing an heir to continue your line. Thank you for your services, cousin. The Blackoak family does not forget those members who advance its goals."
There was a clatter and a great deal of screaming as what looked like a small landslide swept over the ramp leading to the gates of the castle, no doubt the work of defenders further up the cliff face connected to the lower castle overlooking the ramp. Out of sight but decidedly not out of reach.
Still, there was no need to worry about them. Much of the first wave was dead or dying but the second wave was already moving in to take the gatehouse. The defenders could only play that trick so many times, after all.
As the second wave began attempting to batter down the gates, there was what sounded like a large amount of commotion brewing from within Miststone Hill. He turned himself a little to face the main keep, situated along the sheer face of the hill, to see a lordly figure fly down from a balcony of the central keep and impact upon the ground below. Hm. It seems the late Lord Greymist chose suicide rather than live with the shame of being bested in war by his own wife. The honourable way out? Coward.
His lip curled a little in distaste at the display, but he could not deny the fact that he was glad to know that the siege was as good as over. The defenders were losing heart before his eyes with the death of their lord, and the fall of their idealistic and not at all pragmatic master had seemingly sapped them of the will and strength to fight.
Aertax stared on impassively and at last saw his banners flying over the battlements. Not the banners of house Greymist, not the banners of any of the cadet branches of his family, and certainly not the banner of the pathetic excuse for a king who sat on the throne in Stagspring. His banner. The true Blackoak banner. To see such a banner fly over the walls of so ancient a castle was, in many ways, the greatest triumph of his life.
No. The greatest triumph of his life so far. There would be many more days of triumph to come yet, of that he was sure. Seeing Tyros and Lady Greymist court these last few moons had made it clear to him that he just needed to see to acquiring a wife of his own first before any further great steps could be taken to further the Blackoak family name.
Yes, that was it. He needed a wife and a son. An heir to his family home. That would be what he needed to see to next.
And so, with the ending of this war and the establishment of the sixth cadet branch of house Blackoak under the most loyal man he knew, Aertax was certain that the rise of house Blackoak was assured.
It was time to see about having an heir of his own to ensure things remained that way.