Niklas soon returned to the lounge unaccompanied, and the rest of the meeting therein proceeded quite smoothly. This was in stark comparison to the previous attempt, which had gone so poorly that Uldred had stormed out of the room and marched directly to her quarters without uttering a single word, where she shut the doors firmly in her pursuing fiancé's face. Once the Mayor and the young Count stood outside and before that disconcertingly opulent carriage once again, Lord Borney quite enthusiastically agreed to keep Niklas up-to-date on his implementation of the proposed renovations. It was a handshake deal, one which Niklas accepted with a slight hesitation and a grain of salt. Finally, the rotund Mayor once more boarded the resplendent vehicle with his servant in tow, his Knight took up the reigns, and then they departed back towards the now-setting sun.
The Count and his two men stood dutifully and watched as the carriage made its way along, but slumped their shoulders and breathed sighs of relief once their guests were completely out of view. What a tiring affair that had been! It put an ugly feeling in Niklas’ gut to think that several more such meetings with the other local Mayors were in store for him in the future. Not to mention his issues with the Countess…
…I don’t suppose she’s going to come out to the other meetings now, is she?
Suddenly the glimpse he had caught of her pretty chin and lips appeared in his mind’s eye. His face immediately flushed bright red, and he clapped his hand loudly upon his forehead, as if trying to knock the very thought from his mind, as the other two men looked over in obvious concern for his health.
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Over the coming weeks many notes of reply arrived in a steady flow, carried by runner or by raven. Of the Mayors of the twelve cities and towns of the territory, only one refused to even meet with him, and implied that Niklas’ fraternization with Lord Borney was the cause for her denial.
“Lady…Merida…hates…Lord…Borney…” Niklas had scribbled as a note to himself upon the back of that particular missive. Even being rebuffed in such a way provided him vital knowledge such as this, and he was sure he could convince the Lady to see him at a later date, so the rejection did not leave him entirely despondent.
Time then began to resume a familiar and comfortable pattern for the young Count. Long, solitary bouts of candlelit study and planning in that dark library took up most of his waking hours, broken up only by meals, bedtime, and the occasional bath. The foodstuffs provided by Lord Borney were a most welcome inclusion to their daily routine, and Niklas had not been aware at how much his sanity may have suffered from the lack of flavor and variety in his meals.
Uldred somehow left her room even more infrequently than before, if such a feat was even possible, and she seemed fully committed to avoiding even the sight of him for as long as she possibly could. Suffice it to say, she did not join the others during the arrivals of the subsequently visiting Mayors, who Niklas would simply inform that the Countess was not well and could not join them.
On the topic of the Mayors, those Lords or Ladies who commanded the many cities and towns of Petrice, with the noble goal of having them function like sterling vessels, Niklas found himself surprised at how much they differed from his expectations. Perhaps Mayor Borney and his abundant display of wealth had been something of a red herring, for with each Mayor he met thereafter, the people he was met with were figures of cold, suspicious stoicism, much like the heads of the villages whom Niklas had previously traveled far and wide to meet. By and large these Mayors wore simple clothes, only showing their status in how much warmer and sturdier their garments were when compared to those worn by the average peasant, and they went about business with a straightforward matter-of-factness. While they were, compared to Lord Borney, noticeably less enthused by the many proposals of their new and young Count, they did not entirely shut him out completely like the village heads had done, and their criticisms were much more informative and constructive.
But as Lady Usheke of the city of Tobmar, the sixth or seventh Mayor he had met with in as many weeks, rode away with her retinue, Niklas mulled over a common pattern of criticism the Mayors had for his proposals. There was a large hitch in his plans, and while it was one that was not entirely unexpected to him, it was nonetheless one that was not easily rectified: Money. Or, to be more specific, a quite terrible lack of it.
If these Lords are to be believed, there just might not be enough coin in the region to cover my expenses, with or without establishing a tax. He thought to himself.
It was a possibility which he had considered, but had dearly hoped would not come to pass. But coffers were indeed practically empty, for Nobles and commoners alike, and trade with the surrounding territories was all but nonexistent, which drove the prices offered by what few traveling merchants entered their borders to impossible heights.
The whole of my efforts up till now will be for naught if I cannot pay for materials by implementing a system of tax, for the paving of roads was meant to be completed posthaste to increase trade in the first place…
It seemed that many more long, arduous days and nights in the library were yet to come in the young Count’s future.
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One night, high inside his private quarters, Niklas sat draped in a soft robe in front of the fire, his hair still wet from his recent bath. A quiet knock came from the other side of his chamber door, which bade him to rise and answer. As he pulled it open he was met by Hemsley, who was still huffing a bit from the long walk up the spiral stair of the tower, though he did his best to hide it. In one slightly sweaty hand he held a letter.
“A message for you, my Lord!”
Niklas took it from him. “Thank you as always, Hemsley.”
He tore into the envelope right then and there, for if it required a reply he did not wish to later call the poor man all of the way back up the stair to fetch it. Inside, he found a small note containing familiar handwriting. As his eyes ran to and fro along its contents his brow slowly sunk into an indignant and incredulous furrow.
Dear Count,
Read the letter, in the handwriting of the traveling swordsman, Thomas.
By the time this arrives to you, I will have completed my final delivery to the town of Parway and its Lord. As this place is not too far from Coronton, the very first location that I visited upon your order, I thought I would pop inside there to witness for myself any new effects brought by your developments.
It was the paragraph that followed after which began to pique the young Count’s interest, and as he read he could not help but begin to mutter the words aloud with a suspicious tone.
It appears that your implementations are moving along most efficiently! Many peasant men were conscripted and have already paved much of the road heading Southeast of the town, and the guards were moving door-to-door collecting taxes from the citizenry.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
Niklas was too stunned to continue reading for a moment. Paving and conscription? Tax collection? What was this nonsense!? He then abruptly looked up to the servant before him and began to query him, incredulity evident in his expression.
“Have we received any recent messages that I have not yet seen? Particularly, messages from Coronton or its Mayor, Borney?”
Hemsley scratched his chin contemplatively, his own brow now furrowed in deep remembrance. A long “Hmmm…” left his throat, and he squinted his eyes as he peered into nothing. After a few moments of effort, he made his reply. “...No, sir, I cannot recall any such thing having arrived.”
“Of course we haven’t!” Niklas scoffed through gritted teeth, although his ire was not aimed at Hemsley, but rather the figure of Lord Borney which appeared just then in his mind’s eye. With a deep, fortifying breath, he then restrained his frustrations for long enough to finish reading the rest of Thomas’ message.
I must warn you, however, that it seems the morale amongst the general populace is quite low, and your name is not uttered by them along with particularly pleasant or polite language. So do be careful, my Lord.
-Thomas
I should have known that bastard Mayor’s clammy handshake was not worth dirt! Niklas thought to himself, his face heating up and hands trembling with the force of his rage.
He looked back up to Hemsley then with a red face pinched in an irritated glare, which made the poor, fatigued servant startle. “I want you and Belfort to find me a horse. I care not what its condition is like so long as it can run, it can be starved or near to death, and I do not care what you pay for it!” He spoke in a commanding tone that brooked no argument, and he then produced a pouch from a nearby table, which he forcefully shoved into the servant’s hands. This pouch contained within it twenty silver coins–his own personal reserves. Then Niklas turned and re-entered his room, making to shut the door behind him before he was briefly interrupted.
“Is this to be done t-tonight, my Lord?” Hemsley practically squeaked out, most startled by this sudden development.
“Tonight!” Niklas firmly ordered as he once again attempted to shut himself insider.
Hemsley caught the door before he closed it, and it cracked against his fingers painfully with the force Niklas had been using to slam it shut. The servant flinched and hastily asked his final question so that he could quickly leave the company of the enraged young Count. “F-for what destination, my Lord?”
Niklas turned over his shoulder and met Hemsley’s eyes with an expression more angry than his servant had ever before seen on him.
“Coronton!”
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It was already late into the night by the time Lady Frith’s carriage arrived at the Royal Palace. Anyone other than her might have been concerned about their sudden and unscheduled arrival there, at such an inconvenient time, and with a request to see the King himself, no less. Such a thing would normally be considered quite an offense, to the point of potentially being a punishable one, but she had no such worries about propriety. In fact, she considered the possibility that her arrival may cause some measure of inconvenience or discomfort to him to be a silver lining, for he was the one who usually wagged his tongue like a dog whenever he saw her and transformed her every social event in the capital into most unpleasant experiences.
The head maid of the Palace furrowed her brow as the Baron’s Daughter ascended the marble staircase towards the entrance, but did not speak her obvious distaste aloud, only offering her guest the proper greetings, as was her duty. The old Maid then led the visiting Lady inside and up yet another set of stairs, crossing a long distance through many opulent halls, until they reached the third floor. Here, scores of eerily neutral and menacingly scowled faces eyed Frith from out of the many, many portraits that lined the halls. Finally, the two women came to a set of wooden double-doors which the maid opened to allow her guest inside, before bowing out of the room and shutting them behind her.
Frith made her way to the center of the room and sat down upon the comfortable furniture arranged there, and no sooner had she done so, than did a new maid arrive to gracefully pour her a cup of a fragrant tea that smelled pleasantly floral and fruity.
At least the refreshments are enjoyable. The young Lady thought to herself as she took a sip from the delicate china teacup, while before her the maid placed a plate bearing an arrangement of light pastries.
A long stretch of time passed in silence then as she sat there alone, nibbling upon sweet treats and sipping her tea–in fact, it continued for so long that the maids began to exchange nervous glances between each other, although they dared not utter a word. It was likely that they were used to visits from a more haughty and ill-tempered kind of Noble, people who were impatient and entitled, and who would not hesitate to berate the help to relieve their frustrations. Frith, however, was not so uncouth. She only smiled pleasantly towards them, showing she was quite content and unbothered by the wait, and in the two maids visibly relaxed where they stood as they silently released the breaths they had held in tense anticipation.
After the long wait, the door across from the one Frith had entered by all but flew open, revealing the figure of Markefalt Boratan himself. The young King looking as best as he could be expected to, given the short time he had to prepare, but he still nonetheless appeared a touch disheveled.
“Lady van der Leigh!” He announced excitedly, opening his arms wide as if to embrace her. “What a pleasant surprise it is to see you, even at such a late hour!”
She had stood at once for his arrival, and she then curtsied with beautiful form as she formally returned his greeting. “Your Highness, King Boratan. The Heavens part for your shadow.”
He put up one hand as if to wave away the very notion of using such propriety. “Oh there is no need for such formality, my dear! It was I who posed such an invitation to you. Though, truthfully, I had not expected you to make use of it at such a late hour.” And though he smiled as if making a casual jest, she detected an undercurrent of true annoyance in his voice.
Good.
Frith simply smiled, took her seat once again upon the couch, and drew another sip of tea from her cup. So welcome was her presence before him, and so beauteous and elegant was her figure, that the King worried she might have heard the thump of his heart as he took in the sight of her.
“My most heartfelt apologies to your Majesty…” She murmured politely as she demurely lowered her eyes, though the lilt in her voice revealed that she was much less apologetic than her words suggested. “...You know that I would not have imposed on your hospitality like this if I were not in most urgent and dire need.”
“My Lady, if there is something that troubles you, I am naught but ears to listen!” He declared, now taking a seat across from her. “You need but tell me what mountains stand in your way and I will move them for you!”
Frith had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes, a habit she used to indulge in whenever he spoke to her so poetically. But that was back when they both attended the Academy together, when he was but a third son with neither great power nor future expectations attached to his rank. Now, he was the most Noble Bachelor in the land, and she was well aware that she must respond to him with greater care than she once had.
Placing a hand upon her cheek, acting a touch on the overdramatic side, Frith feigned at a worried dismay. “You see, it is about my Father’s business. You are aware of the iron mines that my family had acquired recently? Well there was a bit of a worrying development the other day…”
The young King leaned forward in his seat, listening intently to her words with a face that had now become quite serious. “That is quite terrible, my dear! Just tell me what I can do to help alleviate your woes.”
Hearing that, Frith grinned a wide, smug smile that was quite unbefitting of a beautiful Noble lady, which she carefully hid behind an elegantly cupped hand.