I sat at my office table. My hair was still damp from my morning bath. I had sweated like a pig this morning while training with Chris, but it felt good. I was no longer getting hit as much, and we had added a buckler. It was a whole new game when adding the shield. Some of the previous stances and movements no longer played into my strategy. As I sat there, musing on how I might land a hit on Chris, a knock came at the door.
“Come in,” I called.
Drake entered and bowed. He was carrying a letter. “My, Lord, this arrived from Melnon,” he said, handing me the letter.
“Thank you, Drake. I will call you if I need anything.”
“Yes, My Lord.” He said while excusing himself.
The first letter was short and a little disturbing. It was from Lisa. They were asking for me to keep an eye out for Kylie. Apparently, she had been missing for several days. Although this was concerning to me, there wasn’t really anything I could do about it. Had she gone and blown herself up? There is no way she took the information and was already able to recreate black powder. Yes, I gave her the information I found in the pdf of the anarchist's handbook and some other YouTube videos, but it is not like she could run down to a store and get saltpeter and sulfur. I hadn’t even been able to get a hold of it. You know, being fourteen and all.
That was an interesting time in my life. There's nothing like trying to get yourself put on the FBI watchlist to excite the young teenage mind. Poor Mark: After that, I never saw him again. Nah, I'm just kidding. The only thing that disappeared was that old Reebok shoe. We couldn’t make black powder, but there are plenty of other things that teenage idiots can use to cause explosions. Man, those were some good times.
Back to Kylie, it just isn’t possible that she found all the things necessary and recreated black powder based on what I said. I’m still blaming that whole thing on my hormones. I normally wouldn't have given the knowledge of a revolutionary weapon to a crazy girl in my normal state. I hated myself for thinking it might be safer for the world as a whole if she messed up with the black powder.
The second letter was much better. They had found a way to capture a larger quantity of fly ash. This was the second such letter I had received this week. They had started to experiment with the larger quantities, but the set time meant they were waiting for the results. The other news was that a family was seeking refuge in our Barony. They were at the camp near Melnon. They had gone to the fishing village, but the wife was having a reaction to something in the air there. They were seeking our help.
This was tricky. If they made it all the way to the village and then back to Melnon, I doubt anyone was chasing them, but it still made me nervous. Yes, I wanted more people, but we still had to make sure we could feed them all. After going over all the villages' reports, we weren't as bad as I thought. If we had been actually paying our taxes in full, we would have been running lean, but I found that each village was storing some away for safety's sake.
I sighed. It was just one family, though. We could keep them in Barim. I wanted to interview them first. I didn’t need a family of slackers. I started to dictate letters to Richard and Lisa when there was a knock at my door.
“Come in.”
Captain Draves entered and bowed. “My Lord, I request to speak with you on a matter that has been weighing heavily on my mind.”
I braced myself for the bad news. “Please, sit down, Captain. What is on your mind?”
“My Lord, what are your intentions toward the criminal Marcus.” He said while looking me squarely in the eyes.
I took a deep breath, “Honestly, I don’t know. I feel death is too harsh, but he has intentionally deceived me and disobeyed me. I believe he is mentally ill. I know you want me to kill him, but could I sleep at night knowing I had killed a man just because he is insane?”
Draves sighed deeply, “My Lord, you are too concerned with your sleep. You are the baron and have duties as such.”
I did not feel it was appropriate to point out that I was not technically a Baron.
“You have the potential to be an excellent Baron. Your desire to see things from other's perspectives keeps you from making rash decisions most of the time. However, it also tends to paralyze you when making a difficult choice. I had told the slavers that I would spare their lives if they led me to their camp. When I saw what they had done to my men, I burnt them alive.”
This I hadn’t heard.
“I did not sleep that night. I saw the faces of my men and the faces of those I had ordered burned alive. But it was my duty to execute justice. I have said it before: you need to either take on the duties of the baron or step down. I have been trying to understand why it is you are having such a hard time. Then, I remember meeting a man from a different country whose beliefs and cultures were so different that I could not understand him. You have the face of Amos Bicman, but I have to remember you are from a place so far away that you may see things differently. Your beliefs don’t fit here. If you truly want to help these people, and if you truly want to preserve this Barony for Aaron, you must change. You must be willing to dispense justice. There is no peace without justice.”
I sat there, stunned. I do not remember much of what was just said to me, but what did make it through hit like a ton of bricks. I was too concerned with my personal feelings. My feelings had nothing to do with justice. I had accepted the mantle of Regent and must do my duty regardless of my personal feelings. I had chased after peace for the last few years of my life after the accident. I thought I had found it. Maybe I had, but I was no longer in that world. I was no longer a twenty-first-century artist. I was the Regant of a barony, and the peace of the Barony must be put before my own. There can be no peace without justice.
I took a deep breath and straightened in my chair. “You are right, Captain. I must not neglect my duty as a baron. I will… I will put him to death if that is the only way we can keep him from harming others and the Barony. Having him sit in prison his whole life is foolish. So unless you have another suggestion, We need to… to… Curse it all. We need to kill him! According to the laws of this land, his offenses require him to die.”
I said it. But could I do it?
“Thank you, My Lord. I will arrange for the sentencing to take place tomorrow. I hesitate to mention it because I believe it will waste our resources, but there is always the option of slavery.”
“Slavery is illegal here,” I said in confusion.
“There is a loop hole. You cannot sell him, but you can turn him over to the crown. They will sell him to another country to be a slave. They may just kill him, though. The reason I hesitated to mention this is because I know you prefer to take a less violent route. This will add the expense of transporting him, and he may prefer death over being made a slave.”
“I have to do this in public, don’t I?” I said, putting my knuckles on my forehead.
“Yes, My Lord.”
I sighed. “I will do it. He will either be a slave or be executed. I promise that I will not neglect my duty to execute justice."
“Amos,” He said without the honorific. “I am proud of you. You have proven yourself worthy of the title you hold. I swear that I will remain by your side to help you.”
“Thank you, Captain. I truly appreciate your friendship.”
“Speaking of friendship. It seems that you are going to continue to speak with Chris in a manner that would be unacceptable to the nobility despite my warnings.”
“I’m sorry, Captain. I was raised with the concept that all men were equal. Maybe if I had been raised as a noble, I could endure the isolation, but I cannot handle all this without friends. It’s too much.”
“I will not push you to end your friendships, but I will warn you. If the knowledge of your behavior towards others reaches beyond the Barony, there may be social consequences.”
“They can stick their consequences up their rear, Captain,” I swear he was trying not to grin at that. Changing the subject, I said. “I have not taken the time to check in on Hyrum the last couple of days. Has there been any improvement?”
“The wounds are healing, and Maggie says he is out of danger, but the times he is conscious, he just stares blankly at the wall. They have moved him out of Maggie's house to an empty one nearby. The people in the village say he wakes up screaming throughout the night. Carrie is still blaming herself.” I could hear the pain in the captain's voice as he spoke of his friend. After what Hyrum had been through, I figured this might be the best we could hope for now. This may take some time. As far as Carrie was concerned, I was starting to think that she was dealing with her own mental problem. It was apparent that she had been physically and mentally abused. We had someone in my therapy group who had something similar. I think it was called self-blame under the general anxiety disorder. It might have been something else. That would make sense with her twisting reality to make it her fault my family was killed. We needed a local therapist for this Barony.
“I’ll have to swing by there later.”
Just then, there was a knock at the door. “Come in,” I said.
The door opened, letting in a very nervous looking tanner.
“I’m sorry, Lord. I didn’t know you were busy. I will return later,” he said while closing the door.
“Nonsence Gerold, come in.”
He hesitantly came into the room.
“Now, is this a sensitive matter that will require me to have the captain withdraw?”
“No, My Lord, forgive me, My Lord, if this request is too bold, but I heard that you were giving a mar to the person in Melnon who can collect more ash for you.”
“Have you thought of something to help?” I said excitedly.
“Well, Um… No, My Lord. Forgive me, My Lord, but I was thinking I may have something to whiten your paper. Mikel said, well, he uh… He said you were somewhat disappointed in the color. I… I have some things I use that may help to whiten it.”
“Really?” I said, standing up without thinking.
“Well, I don’t know, but they may help.”
“So you heard I was giving rewards for helping make ash, and you thought I might reward you if you could whiten the paper.” I gave a slow, considering nod, “Now that is the type of thinking I like. What would you want?”
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"Well, um…” The poor man was so nervous he started to wring his hands. “I would like some clothes for my children.”
“Clothes for your children,” I said in surprise. “You are one of my serfs, are you not?”
“Yes, My Lord.”
“Aren't you already being provided with clothing?”
"Forgive me, My Lord. I should not have been so bold."
"I wasn't chastizing you for wanting clothes for your children, Gerold. I am concerned about your family."
“They are growing, My Lord, and well, some of the clothes my wife is struggling to repair.”
“I understand how children go through clothing, Gerold. What I meant was why you haven't been provided with more.”
“Your Father, may he rest in peace, said that they could wait another year. He did not want to waste the flax on the children.”
His face fell as I said, “No, Gerold, I will not provide clothing for your children for making the paper white.” His face lifted, though, as I continued.
“As the Regent of Bicman, it is my duty to make sure your children are provided for. The clothes will be provided. Now, what would be a suitable reward for making the paper better?”
Gerold looked too stunned to speak. “Unfortunately, I can’t keep giving away livestock,” I said more to myself. Then I snapped my fingers. “If you can improve the paper, I will pay you as I would a peasant for all the goods that you produce for the next year.”
Finding his tongue, Gerold finally spoke. “My Lord, your generosity knows no bounds. My family and I thank you for your grace and kindness.”
“It is a small thing to reward such ingenuity. Speak with Emily and see what you can come up with. You may be excused.”
“Thank you, My Lord,” he said while hurrying out of the room.
“Word will spread of this.” The captain said in a contemplative voice.
“Of what?”
“Releasing him from his obligations as a serf for creating something.”
“Is that a bad thing? I mean, don’t we want to find ways to make the Barony more prosperous.”
“I just wanted you to be aware of your actions. You must think ahead of what the consequences might be.”
“What do you think they will be?”
“I don’t know.” He said simply
“So you just want to worry me,” I said with a sigh, “Well, now I need to go play with my nephew to unwind. Thanks a lot.”
“I believe you are making an excuse to put off what needs to be done.”
“I will admit to nothing. Now let's go.”
I left Draves and headed to look for Aaron. I found him being nursed by Amy, and that really bummed me out. I needed to invent a bottle. I loved feeding babies. I had gotten used to women feeding their babies out in the open by now. I have to admit the first time I came into the room to see Amy feeding Aaron. I practically ran out of the room. Emily told me I was weird when I told her the embarrassing story.
“I’m sorry, My Lord, he will be going down for a nap soon.”
“Aaron, as your Regent, it is my duty to tell you that when I was your age, I didn’t take naps. I left the manor at the first bell and didn’t return until dinner. You kids have it so easy these days. Also, I refuse to invent a phone with apps or social media.”
Amy was used to me spouting nonsense at my nephew by now and just ignored me.
“My Lord, with your busy schedule, I don’t know if you recall, but Lord Aaron’s Birthday will be in two weeks.”
“What! Are you serious? Aaron forget the naps, by the time I was one I had two jobs. What have you been doing with your life? Never mind, forget all that, Aaron, you can’t turn one; I haven’t got a clue how to make you an actual birthday cake. Give me about a year, buddy, and I am sure we can come up with something. That will work. Aaron, as a responsible Regent and uncle, I demand you wait until next year to turn one. No, ok then, I guess we will just have to throw you a really big party. Well, Amy, you are responsible for making sure we throw the future Baron a proper party. I am off to take a quick ride on Blaze.” I exited the room and ran immediately into a flustered Marshandra.
“My Lord, there is a personal messenger here from Count Vaspar.”
“I’m guessing that isn’t normal,” I said with concern.
“The only messengers we get are those dropping off letters that have been passed through several runners. This man actually came straight from Vaspar.”
“Well, let's go meet him.”
Marsh sighed, “My Lord, you can’t go in there looking like that?”
“Why not?” I said, looking down at myself.
“Because this is a personal messenger. Everything you say, do, or wear will be reported on.”
“Ah, he is spying on us. Well, then, I guess I will try and use proper etiquette.”
“Please do, now let us get you dressed. And please, My Lord, for the hundredth time, let me shave that ridiculous goatee and mustache.”
“Not happening, Marshandra.”
Half an hour later, I entered the Great Hall from the study entrance, walked to the center chair, and sat down to face an empty audience hall. I sat with a straight-backed posture, one hand resting on my arm and one on my lap. As soon as I was seated, a guard opened the main door, and Draves and Chuck escorted the messenger in.
The man who entered with my guards was most likely in his late thirties. His face was blank when he first entered, but a brief look of surprise crossed his face as our eyes met before he could school his emotions. Very curious. Was he not expecting to find me on the chair? The only reason I could imagine he was here was due to the letter I had sent. Surely, the count would have informed him of my father's demise.
As he approached, he got down on one knee and bowed his head. Draves said, “My Lord Amos, may I introduce Sir Mathew Vaspar, Messenger of Count Vaspar?”
“I greet thee, Sir Mathew, you may rise and speak.” Dang, I hope I nailed that. The brief council I was given by Marshandra, who was also not well versed in this, was all I had to go by.
“Thou art most gracious, Lord Bicman. I bring his Lordship, Count Vaspar’s greeting.”
“We are honored to have a member of the House of Vaspar come to our humble Barony. To what do we owe this visit?” Dude, I totally got this.
“My Lord Vaspar was most intrigued by both your letter and your gift. He asked me to express his desire to visit with you at his estate in Vaspar.”
Ok, that one got me. I was not expecting to receive such an invitation. I was speechless for a moment until I saw the Captain nodding his head encouragingly. “Forgive me for my delay, Sir Mathew. This news caught me by surprise. The honor of receiving such an invitation is quite overwhelming for a young man such as myself. I will, of course, make preparations to attend, Count Vaspar. Please, your journey must have been taxing. I have had my maid Marshandra prepare a room for you as we speak. My guard will show you to the room.”
“That is most kind, My Lord.” He said with a bow.
I nodded in response and said, “Guardsman Chuck, please escort Sir Mathew to the guest quarters.”
“As you command, My Lord,” Chuck said with a bow. “If you would please follow me, Sir Mathew.”
With that, Chuck escorted Mathew out of the room, and I was left with Draves. I sighed, “Well, That just happened.”
“My Lord, I have to admit I was impressed with your handling of the situation. The manner of your speech was almost as well done as your fathers.”
“Well don’t expect much of it, Captain. That was exhausting. Now tell me what you know about messengers and our current situation. One thing that surprised me is that he was a member of the house of Vaspar but was given the job of a message boy.”
“That is because you are unfamiliar with the position. A Special Messenger of the Nobility is usually not a blood relative of the family. They are, in a sense, adopted into the house, but their position is nonhereditary. This gives them the title of sir, similar to a knight. The reason for the increase in rank is because, in some limited capacity, they will act in the name of the Lord. They also act as informants to the nobles they serve. Their responsibility only extends within the noble's territory itself. Envoys or ambassadors are used to represent a noble outside their territory.”
“So messenger is really a deceptive title. They are the eyes and ears of the noble and, to a lesser extent, roaming judges.”
“Precisely, so please tread carefully.”
“Can we hide the things we are working on?”
“You cannot restrict his movements. He already has seen the paper and pen. The more you discourage him, the more intrigued he will be. The plows have been put away, so I don’t think that will be a problem. But if he asks questions, don’t evade. They are trained to sniff things out better than a dog.”
“So when do you think we should leave?”
“We will leave with the messenger.”
“But, he said at our earliest convenience. We have a lot to do.”
“My Lord, when a noble of a higher rank says, "at your earliest convenience" it means now.”
“Oh, bugger. I’m going to miss Aaron’s birthday. Dang it, Jorb has my carrige. We need to get that up and running. Of course, if the leaf springs don't work, then I might just prefer to ride Blaze.”
“My Lord, you cannot show up to the Count’s riding a horse. It would make you a laughing stock of the court.”
“Well, guess Jorb is going to have to hurry up.”
Sir Mathew Vaspar
I sat at a table that had obviously been brought into the room in a hurry before I had been given it. I had been here for a day and a half and was trying to wrap my head around what was happening here. I had been given the most up-to-date reports we had on the Barony, but they seemed to be wildly inaccurate in a lot of ways. The Barony was poor, to be sure, and the serfs looked underfed, but in general, they were in good spirits. I was told they were behind in their taxes, but from what I could tell, there wasn’t even a patrol that came out this far, not to mention no roads were maintained past the Nore. Even the bridge was well due for maintenance. So they were paying for all the things that other baronies were without the benefit. At least, they would be if they actually paid their taxes. What they did pay barely covered the cost of the military dues. A military they would never see.
I had read the history of this region before I came. This was a barony in name only. The conquest of the Marsh-Dwellers was just a matter of pride. Nothing has really changed for these people. Of course, now only a small percentage were Marsh-Dwellers. The rest were imported with the baronette two generations ago. It made me wonder what would happen if the Nore River Bridge collapsed. Would the current king even bother to restore it? If he didn’t, the Baron would have an excuse not to pay taxes. Personally, I think this place would be forgotten until the kingdom actually needed to expand. With the war of expansion to the south going on, with no end of stopping until the lands of the Hitub were brought under our control, I doubt it would be in the next hundred years.
I shook my head at the pointlessness of it all. But then I looked down at the ‘paper’ and ‘pen’ sitting in front of me. How in the world did a people of a backwater barony develop such things? I snuck into the paper room this morning while others were sleeping. Everything was clean and put away. I saw the machine that must allow them to make this paper, but I was hesitant to assume I knew how it worked. Also, the trays and water. One impressive thing was the hundreds of sheets of paper that were in stacks. This had to be cheaper than making parchment. Then there were the books. The first time I saw one was after dinner when the students gathered. The sight of it was bizarre. Children and adults of no station were being taught to read and write. They had so much paper that they didn’t even bother to use clay or slate. A peasant was teaching serfs to read! And they all had one of the special pens shown to me by Casper before my departure.
Children and adults grouped together, taking turns reading what they called picture books. Each takes turns reading a page and then passing it to the person. The stories were unique, but the detailed drawings were even more interesting. Upon questioning where they had obtained the books, they said that the baron himself made them. Upon looking closer, I saw that they were indeed written on the barony's paper.
There had been no reports of the baron having skills in artistry, and the works that these simple people were passing around would be worthy of being in a nobleman's collection. The best word I could find to describe the baron was ‘enigma.’ He was the one most unexpected thing. I had been sure that I would find a fat drunk man waiting for me. He was large, to be sure, but not nearly as much as the reports made him out to be. And at dinner, although he offered me his best wine, he refused any himself. I thought maybe he was trying to be conservative with a limited supply, but when surreptitiously asking a servant about it, I was told that he had not drunk any alcohol since he recovered from his illness and became a regent. He had been rumored to have said he needed a clear head at all times. I, of course, was happy to drink a decent vintage.
The rumor that he was lazy was also untrue. He was always doing something. All day today, he was hurrying about, involving himself in different matters. The only break he took was to play with his nephew, who, by all accounts, was well cared for and loved. When I asked the nursemaid about the baron, her answers led me to believe that the baron treated his nephew better than his own father had.
I had been expecting to return to Vaspar as soon as tomorrow but was informed that the carriage was being modified. I first thought this was an excuse, but to assuage my doubts, the baron took me to his blacksmith shop, where a large man was working furiously on large pieces of copper. When I asked him what he was doing, he said he was building something to make the ride smoother. He called it a leaf spring. It did not look much like a leaf, though. It would be interesting to see if I could dig up anything tomorrow.