Chapter 44: Inheritance.
The march back to Renton turned out to be a dour affair despite the Scottish victory at the Tournament. As they had set out, several clergymen chose to begin a dirge for King Robert. The slow lilting tones of the Latin chant only serving as a reminder to the men and women present of their murdered King and the troubles ahead. The sound depressed the mood of the victors, and soon their exuberance and eagerness had dampened so they trudged in silence.
As is the nature of these things, the weather quickly matched the mood, darkening with an afternoon storm. Rain pounded upon the lands. Men who moments before had celebrated a victory over demons and death trudged through mud and water that rose past their ankles. Clothes, so recently cleaned by newly gained levels, were once more made filthy by the weather.
James Douglas, the Lord of Douglas, sat his mount at the rear of the column and spoke in quiet tones to his wife, the newly created Beati. Whenever they passed a straggler, Tatania’s voice rose in encouragement. “Not far now.” She called, or “God is with us. Rain is merely a baptism from heaven!”
The stragglers, grateful to be spoken to by the Beati, stood taller and marched faster to catch up with their fellows. Each cry renewing their pride and hope.
As she turned back from her latest encouragement, Tatania resumed reassuring her husband that her beatification did not mean that their status or relationship were in peril. "We are still handfast James, and though our marriage must stay irregular, I am your wife and still love you. My class may be my role in this Tribulation, but it does not define all of me."
James felt familiar warmth fill his breast as her words soothed his fears. He had not realized how much he’d needed that confirmation. Turning, he could see the Princess had turned from their party with Sir Iain and Sir Peter and were headed towards the King's hall. He looked about, seeing Liam and the Pages were also some distance away.
Taking their privacy as an opportunity, he leaned closer to her.
"Thank you, Tatania. Perhaps we could find some time..."
Hearing the desire in his voice, she laughed. "I would like that too, husband, but we must see to other matters before we start trying to make another heir."
He gave her a pout, which caused her to laugh once more. The noise of the Beati's good humor giving rise to a number of men turning and giving a cheer.
"See." James said. "They want it too."
This time she couldn't stop herself. The situation had become too ridiculous. With an unladylike snort, she lost control, and her peals of laughter only moderated when their party entered Renton.
Ahead, the small Inn was preparing well for the return of the Tourney’s participants. Folk hurried to clear space for the guests, and in the fields surrounding the building, riders had marked out the encampments of the noble retinues.
Already he could see Squires and Pages hurrying to emplace their master's tents. From the number of new banners, more nobles had arrived. Likely for the Council. He thought. New positions will be for the offing, and many an opportunist will seek advancement.
As their party reined in near the stable, James turned in his saddle and spotted his Squire, already dismounting.
“Liam, find me once you’ve stored and cleaned the armour. We must see to the King and look to finding his murderer.” He ordered, dismounting.
“Aye, Lord. What of the horses?”
“The pages will attend them. You have a reprieve from that duty.” He said, flashing a grin as he saw the grimaces pass over Andrew and Aidan’s faces as they heard the news. Turning to address his pages, he saw their expressions settle into ones of stoic attentiveness. “You two did well today. I was proud that you both held your courage, despite what you faced.”
“Thank you, Lord.” Came both boy’s replies as they bowed from the saddle, both much happier for the praise. Dismounting, the pages hitched their horses and prepared to attend to their Lord and lady’s steeds.
All of their horses were powerful destriers. These steeds - the same as those which carried them on the journey north - had ridden in cavalry charge that had decided the Tournament. When added to the levels gained from Ferniegair, the extra levels from the tournament had transformed hobby horses into tall and well-muscled steeds of war.
James’ own mount, a Rouncy he’d named Fidele, had just reached level 9. Although it had not grown significantly, already standing at 16 hands, its musculature was now comparable to that of a powerful destrier. Even better, despite the horses' increased weight and power, they still showed little sign of fatigue and were still as fast as they had been.
The reason for the pages' complaints, however, was the horses’ temperament. James wasn’t sure if he’d be at ease grooming these malcontents. Still, the lads needed to learn how to care for a horse, especially ones that were liable to fight.
He hurried over to his wife’s mount to help her to the ground. As she leaned down into his arms, she floated delicately to the ground next to him. The grace of her movements silencing the conversations in the Inn's yard.
“You truly are incredible.” He whispered, enamoured of her. James realized he hadn’t truly had a moment to inspect the physical changes to his wife since she gained her class, but she had changed. Somehow, despite the rain and the mud from the ride, her face had become more refined and younger, while her eyes glowed more fiercely than ever with a joy for life.
She smiled, having heard his soft words, and leaned forward to kiss his lips. “As are you, my Lord.”
Curious, James couldn’t help himself. “How did you do that?” He asked.
Opening her Statistics, she showed him.
Title: Lady, Seeress
Name: Tatania Douglas
Level: 11
Genus: Human
Class: Beati
Age: 34
Tribulation Experience: 372/1164
Health: 160
Magic: 100
Stamina: 100
Available attributes: 0
Attributes:
Strength: 12
Agility: 14
Vitality: 22
Intelligence: 30
Wisdom: 30
Charisma: 30
Luck: 24
Faith: 32
Will: 30
Spells:
Soul-Song: Level 12
Divine Connection: Level 2
Abilities:
Ethereal Grace (Active); Level 1
Voice of Command (Active): Level 1
Precognition (Passive): Level 1
Skills
Tactics: 2
Leadership: 35
Athletics: 20
Strategy: 33
Reading: 208
Swimming: 4
Logistics: 13
Writing: 144
Manners: 55
Swordsmanship: 2
Mathematics: 183
Chivalry: 40
Archery: 18
Hunting: 45
Healing: 22
Riding: 48
Light Amor: 5
Housekeeping: 32
Sewing: 29
“Ethereal Grace indeed! I have no need of the system to tell you that.” James laughed and felt her draw close, tightening the embrace as hers did the same. A cough interrupted their public tryst, and James turned to see the retinue of Templar bodyguards behind him. At their fore, the elderly templar from the tourney stood waiting.
“My Lady,” He began. “If you would accompany us?”
James stepped between the Knight and his wife protectively. “For what purpose?”
Letting out a light laugh, Tatania introduced him. “Husband, this is Sir William Middleton. He was once the Prior of the Temple House at Cutler.”
The elderly knight gave a tired bow. “My Lord. I spoke with the Beati at the Tourney field. Given her status, there are some matters of faith which require her attention. She is now, perhaps, as significant to the clergy as the Vicar of Christ himself.”
James nodded. “Should I send for a Priest?”
Sir William quickly held up a hand. “Not yet, my Lord. For now, we remain a prescribed Order. Although God's will is being done through what the Lady calls the ‘Tribulation System’, it is yet to be acknowledged by the Mother Church.”
The Lady of Douglas smiled. “As Sir William says, it would not be politic for the Clergy to be involved before we have decided what to do. I must speak further with Sir Middleton if we are to find a way forward that will not fracture the church. To do that, we must also discuss several matters and secrets held by the order.”
She stressed the word secrets, and James saw Sir Middleton shift uncomfortably. Clearly, whatever he needed to tell Tatania was important.
Despite the Knights' discomfort, James could see good reason behind their arguments. If the Bishop - who was already at odds with his Lady–denied her claims of Sainthood, there were many amongst the peasantry who would accept his word.
“As you wish, my lady.” James bowed to his wife. “I shall leave Aidan and Andrew here if you have need of anything.”
James felt his wife lean in and deliver a soft kiss on his cheek before she turned and entered the tavern with the Templar, his brothers falling in around them, vigilant and proud.
Looking after her, James pondered his next move. He had intended to spend some small amount of time with Tatania. She was ever an anchor for him. A steadying force in a world where even the most certain things could change in a moment. She was and always had been his one constant. Now she too had changed.
He knew she loved him. Her actions and words displayed that always. His worry, he realised, stemmed from a fear that she would no longer have time for him. When he’d needed her in the past, she had always been there. Now…
He sighed. There was no point worrying himself ragged over things that may not yet come to pass. His wife was far smarter than he, and far more politically astute than even King Robert had been. Perhaps that was something she inherited too. He mused. Her natural capacity for intrigue and politics definitely had not come from attributes in the Tribulation System.
Sighing, it occurred to James that he, too, would need to assign his attributes and select a class. The aftermath of the tournament had been so mentally fatiguing, despite the physical reprieve granted by the levels they’d gained, that many in the army had put off the process until they had rested.
For James and his men, however, there could be no reprieve until they had dealt with the long litany of issues that required an immediate resolution. Deciding that perhaps gaining a class might aid in this, James opened the visions that awaited his attention.
You are now eligible to select a Class.
Available Classes:
Warrior (Common)
Knight (Uncommon)
Displaced Baron (Rare)
Laird Of Scotland (Rare)
Avalonian Lord (Epic)
Glancing over the first two choices, he saw they were fairly basic classes. Warrior increased strength by a marginal amount, and Knight increased both strength and charisma, but neither would be useful beyond their fairly simple scope. He needed something more. Something that could change the balance of the coming war.
He inspected the other three classes in more detail, hoping for something that would allow him to manage the challenges he faced more effectively.
Displaced Baron (Rare)
Having had your lands stripped by force, your power over it is reduced, though your desire to reclaim it remains undiminished. A Lord in your own right, this class increases your ability to lead, command and fight for your rights and your people.
On reclaiming your lands, this class will change to that of Landed Baron, enabling you greater control over your resources and fiefdom. If you relinquish your lands, you will forfeit this class and its benefits.
Each Level of Displaced Baron grants:
3 Available Attributes
+2 Agility
+2 Intelligence
+3 Will
This class may evolve.
While this class may be useful in developing his lands, he doubted he’d be able to return for some time. Not only was there the war against Balliol to consider, but after, James was honour bound to resurrect King Robert. Though he had a duty to his lands, his duty to his murdered friend was greater. He knew he would have to rely on his allies and Sir Keith to reclaim the Keep.
Sighing in frustration at his inability to fix this wrong, James turned to the next Class choice.
Laird of Scotland (Rare)
Sworn to King, Land and God, you are a leader born of leaders. Dedicated to upholding the Laws and peace of the realm, you are also no stranger to war, forging a path to see your nation and your people stand pre-eminent upon this realm.
Each Level of Laird of Scotland grants:
4 Available Attributes
+2 Vitality
+2 Intelligence
+2 Wisdom
This class may evolve over time. Further attributes may be earned as National Quests are completed.
This was more like it.
The additional attributes allowed him a greater control over his personal path, while the added Strength, Intelligence and Wisdom would allow him to better deal with the demands of his position. While he still enjoyed the physical demands of his role, and the thrill of defeating a foe, he knew that by far his value lay not in strength of arms, but in the sharpness of his mind.
Finally he opened the last Class choice.
Avalonian Lord (Epic)
As kingdoms fall, they rise once more in a new form.
Each Level of Avalonian Lord grants:
1 Available Attributes
+2 Strength
+2 Agility
+2 Vitality
+2 Intelligence
+2 Wisdom
+2 Charisma
This class may evolve. Further attributes may be earned as National Quests are completed.
James couldn’t help but allow a frown to pass over his face. The description was nothing like the others, but he knew the tales of Avalon. Myths of this world were becoming real before his eyes, and he knew he needed all the aid he could find in the search for the Grail. From what Liam had explained to him, classes seemed to reflect both the needs and the history of the individual choosing them.
Considering that, James knew that this class would provide the greatest opportunity to fulfill his goals.
While the class only gave one available attribute, it also provided a greater foundation for his physical and mental traits–both of which he would likely need to secure the Kingdom and perform his duty to his King and Leigemen.
He found himself torn between the Laird class and the Avalonian class. Part of him didn’t wish to admit that the world had changed. That wish, however, was futile.
Ever pragmatic, the Lord of Douglas set his intent on the longer term and accepted the Avalonian Lord class and opened his Statistics to assign his attribute points.
Titles: Lord, “The Black”, "Good".
Name: James Douglas
Level: 12
Race: Human
Class: Avalonian Lord
Age: 38
Tribulation Experience: 633/745
Health: 250
Magic: 200
Stamina: 100
Available Attributes: 5
Strength: 23
Agility: 21
Vitality: 29
Intelligence: 20
Wisdom:23
Charisma: 18
Luck: 18
Faith: 16
Will: 20
Spells:
Flame: Level: 1
Healing Song: Level 3
Ward: Level 2
Skills:
Tactics: 62
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Shields: 32
Athletics: 60
Strategy: 31
Reading: 170
Swimming: 18
Logistics: 32
Writing: 78
Manners: 43
Swordsmanship: 45
Mathematics: 103
Chivalry: 38
Archery: 19
Heavy Armour: 44
Sewing: 7
Spear-wielding: 34
Light Armour: 45
Animal Husbandry: 53
Riding: 83
Unarmed Combat: 30
Housekeeping: 3
Metal Working: 5
Leadership: 83
Healing: 9
Carpentry: 3
Maintenance: 49
Hunting: 47
He’d levelled thrice! He recalled the last time he’d assigned his attributes, and seeing that his Luck, Charisma and Faith were lacking, he added his available attributes to them.
Slowly, he added two points to his Luck, two into Faith and one into Charisma.
Although Faith was still his lowest attribute, it was now at a far more respectable 19, and allowed him to feel some hope that perhaps God might look kindly on his prayers that the Grail was close by.
Sighing as he let his attributes settle upon his form, James decided it was time to see about his liegemen. Both of the Pages–for now–were content and safe, but his Liam would require a significant amount of work, especially regarding his finances and inheritance.
With the King's death, the Lord Chancellor now held power over Liam’s inheritance.
Liam was 17, and thus–at least according to the System - of age. It was time for that to be acknowledged and for Liam to be ennobled - even if only by an oath to the Regent on behalf of the King. That required a Charter for the Lands and a Patent of Nobility–both were instruments which the Lord Chancellor oversaw.
Worse, however, was the situation regarding the Tribulation Credits.
When Liam had offered the vast sum to the King, he had done so as a gift. A statement witnessed by many of the great Lords.
Despite that, James knew the King’s heart was Just. Robert would not have simply accepted such a sum without offering some reward or recompense. Especially given the impact the monies had on his Kingdom.
It was for this reason James had suggested his Squire establish a claim to the gifted monies through a banking agent. James had, of course, intended to speak to his friend this very evening and see that Robert recognize the loan.
Now, however, any discussion of it being a loan was simply a folly.
Regardless, James was adamant in his resolve that Liam receive some consideration from the crown for his services. He resolved to make this case to Lord Walter. After all, it was the least he could do for the lad.
Liam, though physically more powerful than any man James had seen before, was still but a Squire in the eyes of the Court. Older and more worldly, it was James’ duty to protect the lad from his own eagerness and naivety.
If no recompense was to be sought, it would not be long before other less scrupulous members of the court attempted to exploit the lad.
Then of course there were also the rewards that Liam should receive for his services in the Tournament, and for resolving the winter. James would see to that.
He could feel a headache coming on and pinched his brow, stretching his neck as the volume of work still left to do crashed home. It was not just his duties to his wards, James was worried for Sir Keith and his own lands. Then there were his vassals to consider. Men like Sir Carmichael and Sir Lyndsey; belted Knights with land holdings within the Douglas estates.
Next to consider was the Army, an untrained mass of the burgesses and peasantry needed weapons, armour and supplies. Without Robert to pass laws and raise taxes for their upkeep, the army would disperse.
A Regency would need to be established, and quickly. More, who could train the army in the best way to use the system? There was Liam and the pages. Perhaps other nobles could spare those in their retinues to assist the smallfolk.
The army also required supplies and equipment. Only then could it march. He would need to bring up these issues with the Council when it convened. It was unlikely to take place tonight.
Last of all, there was the crime committed against the King.
James felt his blood boil at the thought of Robert’s murder. Whatever foul beast had slain him was still at large, and possibly still within the army. They would need to be found and interrogated to discover the reasons for their assassination. Either way, he would have vengeance for his Liege.
There was so much to do. He paused, and realized that he’d simply listed the mundane problems. Those of the old world. The news Liam had brought from the Dragon had much greater implications than Liam, his fief or even the Army. If James could find a clue to the Grail’s location, he would follow it at once. The return of the King would solve many problems and quash Balliol’s hopes of stealing Robert’s throne.
He'd have to ask the Bishop to investigate the reliquaries and see if these holy items might give them an advantage over their enemies.
Nothing to be done but to do it. Small steps make great journeys. He thought. Not one to procrastinate, the Lord of Douglas got to work.
Walking into the stables, he found Aidan and Andrew engaged in an affable banter with his Squire as they went about their duties. All three of the lads had grown to the size of well-built men. Despite their youthful faces, he still found it somewhat dissonant that the three were bantering in the manner of boys.
Currently, Aidan was ribbing Liam over the attention he had received from a barmaid at the Inn. It seemed the young Squire had become the focus of at least one wench’s attentions.
With Andrew holding his sides in laughter, the Wedderburn heir gestured crudely to describe the imagined attentions Liam might receive. It was good to see them in high spirits despite the trials of the last few weeks.
Rather than interrupting, James watched the lads working and laughing. He was well pleased with the bonds that had formed between his wards.
Liam started work on a rent in James’ mail hauberk. Unable to reform the broken steel links, some of which were missing, Liam repaired the section with a new chain link of the same silvery material from which formed Liam’s own armour. The wire twisted into the desired shape at Liam’s silent command. Creating a magical flame, the squire then welded the links closed. James was about to ask the lad why he had welded instead of riveted, but held his peace. The lad inspected the work and nodded in contentment.
James did not know how much a suit of chain crafted from that metal would be worth, but the differences between the rough grey of his steel mail and the liquid silver sheen of the new spoke of significant value.
Looking up as James drew closer, Liam set down the now cleaned and repaired hauberk. “Lord!” He said, bowing. The pages also stopped their work and bowed to their lord. “I have only a few more items to repair. Have you need of me?”
James chuckled, grinning up at his giant squire. “I do. I am taking you to meet with the King’s Chancellor, Sir Walter de Twynham. We must establish a claim for your loan to the king and see about the status of your lands. You are nearly at your majority, from what you have said, and the lands of your father are, by right, yours.”
Liam frowned. “I had not meant the credits as a loan, Lord. As you said, when all this started, we should spend Tribulation Credits on the defence of our home. If we cannot count on the seasons, the crops would fail and then…”
“Aye.” James nodded, glad that his squire had seen the likely outcome for the kingdom. He clearly had grown far more aware of how the ways of the world. Liam’s father had called it ‘interconnected’, where pulling too hard on one system would cause hardships for another part. This was why too much altruism was to be avoided.
People needed the freedom to experience some hardship, or they would not work to overcome it. James had not understood that until he’d retaken his ancestral home from the bastard Cliffords and reflected on the hardships of his own life.
No one had done it for him, but without the aid of good men, he would never have achieved it. It was why he owed Lamberton and Bruce everything.
“I am glad you see that. The work you have done and the hardships you suffered on the kingdom's behalf should not be overlooked. If your generosity is not to be rewarded, then it should be–at least–recognized.”
“There is also the matter of your lands. You have passed your majority and must claim your rights! Come, Liam, there is much to do.”
“Yes, Lord.” Liam replied, setting down the Hauberk and rising.
Turning to the two pages, who had been intently eavesdropping on their conversation, James smiled. “You lads have done well. Once you are done with the horses, attend the Lady and ask her to help you choose your classes. We may be gone some time.”
Seeing their bows of obeisance, James turned with a nod and, followed by Liam, set off toward the Renton Town Hall.
**********************************************************************************
As Liam followed Lord Douglas into Renton, he stared about in surprise. Despite the depressing weather, people moved in droves, excitedly trading tribulation credits, information, and newly crafted wares. Some less considerate souls had set up stalls in the middle of the road as if it were a market day.
The village, no larger than a furlong at its widest point, was of a similar size to that of the town of Douglas. The buildings, well-constructed from stout timbers, often had stone footings–a rarity even in wealthy townships. Even the main road was large, being wide enough for two carts to pass each-other. Though un-cobbled, the dirt of the road was compacted and well maintained. Duckboards covered the crude and shallow gutters, where the rain pooled to drain slowly into the Leven.
What shocked him was how different it this was from any other scene he’d spied before. Not only were there people moving about in the hundreds, but the level of wealth displayed here was far greater than even in Glasgow.
On each side of the road, homes of the townsfolk now housed the nobility. The original occupants, serving as varlets for their uninvited guests. Liam saw at least a few of them casting dour looks at the shields mounted above their doors as a sign to other nobles that the home remained occupied.
The smallfolk who had attended the Tournament, were going about their business despite the inclement weather. Here and there newly levelled classers showed off magic and abilities to groups of onlookers. Others stood beside their wares, promoting items that ranged from weapons and armour to freshly baked pies and wine.
One man, an elder wearing the robes of a pilgrim, used his magic to grow an Ash tree in the middle of the road. This happened much to the protestations of one onlooker who complained it was impeding the entrance to his workshop. Despite the protests, the pilgrim simply uprooted the sapling when it reached his own height and took out a knife. Then, slicing away the thin boughs, he formed the suddenly dried wood into a quarterstaff.
As he passed, Liam inspected the item.
Voidwood Quarterstave (Uncommon)
An Apprentice Treeshaper created this item.
This item grants:
2 Strength
2 Agility
2 Vitality
Impressed by how quickly the man had crafted the stave, Liam considered asking his Lord to stop. Before he could speak, however, a small crowd gathered between himself and the Pilgrim. As they continued on, yells echoed behind him as the prices on offer grew ever higher.
Elsewhere, men at arms showed off weapons skills that required incredible accuracy or strength. One shorter man, now muscled beyond any of his fellows, smote at a rusted helm with an axe. The blade cleft through the metal as though it were forged of soft wood.
Cheers erupted from the onlooking crowd but ceased when the man suddenly crumpled to the dirt, exhausted and unconscious. His friends crowded around him, checking to see if he yet lived. Liam gave a groan as he recalled a similar moment in his own past.
Liam couldn’t help but wonder how many others in the army would follow this man’s folly. He knew it was not irrecoverable, but it would be a problem if it proved common.
Lord James, seeing the display, glanced at Liam. “Did you see that? If men can breach steel armour with ease, it’ll only be a matter of time before our weapons and armour no longer function.”
He nodded. “Aye, Lord. I do not think even the sturdiest mail would be of much protection against the strength some folk now wield. It certainly wouldn’t hold up past a strength of about 25 or 30. If we increased the thickness of the rings, it might help. What we really need are different materials. Mythral would be ideal, though according to the books I have read, it only appears in areas of high magical concentration.”
“You spent four years away, and now you sound more like a scholar than a squire.” Lord Douglas confirmed with a laugh. “I had difficulty believing it before, but the depth of knowledge you display is beyond anything anyone has discovered so far.”
“It is not so great, Lord. There is still so much I don’t know, and even more I need to discover.”
“That desire to learn is a treasure to us. I heard that the Earl of Lennox has set several craftsmen to work on developing the schematics you provided. We shall stop at the workshops on the way back. I’m sure that they would appreciate any advice you might offer.”
Liam spoke his agreement, though he doubted many of the craftsmen would be keen to have their work judged by a man as young as he.
Arriving at the town square, the Lord of Douglas led Liam to a two story building with lime-washed walls that served as the Renton Town hall.
Climbing a short set of steps, they ducked beneath the low doorframe.
Liam looked about a well-furnished interior of a civic building. The lower floor was one long room with a staircase at the back leading presumably to living quarters. Against every wall, shelves lay littered with parchment, and candles lit the interior so well he had barely noticed the drop in light. At a large desk on the far side of the room sat a hunched figure, writing furiously upon a parchment.
At the sound of footsteps on the timber floor, the man held up one ink stained hand.
“If you’re here to deliver, set them down on the shelf to the left. If you’re here to pick up, the ones to your right.”
Lord Douglas coughed. “Neither, I’m afraid, Deacon. I am here on another matter.”
Spinning in his seat, the older man grinned up at him. “James! I’m glad you have come. There are many things we must discuss. The King’s body lies in Saint Serf’s Chapel at Dumbarton. As you requested, his heart is to be embalmed and stored within a reliquary, while his body is prepared for the journey to Dunfermline.”
James gave a low bow. “Thank you Walter.”
The older man frowned. “I cannot say I am well pleased to bring the King back from his eternal rest, though I would like to see him once more. He was a good and kind man.”
Walter seemed to drift off for a moment before making a note on the table before him. Soon he was back at work, seeming to have forgotten his guests.
James coughed, bringing the man’s attention back to him. “Walter,” He began, and the quill stopped its scratching once more. “I would like to introduce you to my Squire. Liam de Lamberton, son of Bishop Lamberton.”
Liam stepped forward and gave the Chancellor a bow. “My Lord.” He said, keeping to form.
The older man levered himself out of his seat and looked Liam over. “He’s a giant, James. Are you sure he’s not one of the Fir Bolg the Irish talk of?” Hearing the Lord of Douglas’ laughter, he looked up into Liams eyes. “He takes after his father, though he is far taller. Well met, Squire Liam. What brings you to see me?”
“There are two matters that require a resolution. The first is the funds Liam provided to the King the night before his death.”
Lord Walter narrowed his eyes. “The gift?”
“We both know Robert would not have accepted it for nothing, especially when we consider the result of its use. If no reward is given, it will have two effects. The first being that those who have heard of his generosity will attempt to seize upon Liam’s wealth, thinking he has more, and is free with it. The second being that few others will offer funds should the King require them in the future.”
“You make good arguments, Lord Douglas. But a gift is a gift. Did you not state that it was so?” Walter turned to Liam.
“I did, Lord. And I sought no reward, though what my Lord argues is sensible.”
The Lord Chancellor laughed. “It is… it is. Then we shall see about what to grant you. Position is out of the question, as it will require the approval of a Regent, and none is yet to be found. We could make out a gift of gold…”
Liam shook his head, removing a gold bar the length of his forearm from his storage ring. Both James and Walter’s eyes bugged at the massive quantity of wealth before them. “I carried a great deal of it back with me from the Dungeon. I will probably have little use for money.”
“Then what could you possibly desire as a reward?” The chancellor asked, bemused by his guest.
Liam had been thinking on the matter as they had walked to the Town hall and had come up with one thing, he knew he required to grow. The idea was something he’d read from one of the Arabic texts in the Tower on Vanaheim.
“I want to set up a madrasa.” Both Lord Douglas and Lord de Twynham stared at him in surprise as Liam continued. “I’m not sure what we call it. It’s a school where any who seek knowledge can learn.”
James shook his head in wonder. “You want your reward to be something to teach others? Altruism is an excellent trait, Liam, but you take it too far.”
“It shall be a reward for me too, Lord. If information is freely shared, then the knowledge people gain of the system and its paths will be open to me as well.” He considered.
“I cannot be the only person in Scotland, or mayhap even the Army, to have learned so much about the system. It’s even possible some who are on their way here have gained more levels, especially if they have been seeking foes to slay.”
Both Lord Douglas and the Lord Chancellor looked at each other in surprise. Neither had considered this idea.
After a moment, the Lord Chancellor spoke. “What you describe is called a University. I suggest you keep the word 'Madrasa' to yourself, lest another who crusaded feels more animosity to the Moor than I. Universities, like Madrasa are places of religious learning, and not dissimilar in purpose. There are two in England right now, in fact. One at Oxford and the other at Cambridge.”
“I cannot imagine you would wish the Clergy to take on the role of educators in this place? Who would you have in mind for that role?” Lord Walter asked.
“No one.” Liam said, then realized he needed to clarify his comment. “No one would need to teach, at least not initially. Those who had discovered techniques that required explanation or practice could develop lessons and be transcribed. The written word could then teach those lessons. If we can build a school and allow people to learn from each other, we can better understand how to use the System as God intends.”
James nodded, though his face held doubts. “The Guilds will be set against this. They will want Masters present so that they do not exchange guild secrets to those outside their fraternity.”
Liam thought about that for a moment. “The two need not be in conflict. While I can create a wooden stave using the system, it will not be of a quality similar to my Master Colm’s work after a month of working with the Tribulation System. Few craftsmen of a month ago could take business from anyone who progresses past Senior Apprentice in their crafting class.”
“If we later extend the University charter to allow the Guilds to create colleges in other towns and cities, they can fund schools throughout the Kingdom. Then they would undoubtedly also send masters to oversee the training and encourage people to join.”
“I worry they would still resist it.” Lord Douglas said, “The Guilds have a great deal of power in Europe. If they choose to see this as a threat, they may create more problems.”
“If a Royal Writ establishes the school, then the Guilds can bury their heids. They may not like it, but they will accept it.” Walter said, laughing. “Even more if we allow them access and some control over what they choose to share.”
“I can give you a provisional writ to start the school, though I would ask that you confirm it once the council selects a Regent. It may not stand up in court if not confirmed by either the King or by a Regency of the Lords of Scotland.”
Lord Douglas and Liam waited some time as Lord Walter arranged the charter documents. Once done, he handed the bundled parchment to Liam. “It will be up to you to see to the construction of the University. Do you have a location in mind?”
Liam had thought about this too. “How large are the estates I stand to inherit from my father?”
Lord Walter considered for a moment. “The lands of Bishop Lamberton? The church lay claim to a fair portion of those lands upon his death, though some were held in trust by His Majesty. I did not know then for whom.”
He moved to a chest which lay in the corner of the room and opened its lid, shifting rolled parchments within until he removed a sheaf of sheets. “These are they.” He said confidently, moving them to his desk and making space.
Unbinding the sheaf, he leafed through the papers. “Besides the lands around Lamberton in Berwick, measuring 500 acres with 200 tenants, there are also three hundred acres near Dundee, leased to the City Burghers..." He shuffled another page. "... and one thousand acres near Prestwick. That land is being administered by a Flemish fellow called Rankin, who also built a mill on the land. You also stand to inherit…”
He paused, reading the parchment for a long moment. When he was done, he looked up, proffering the parchment to Douglas. “I wasn’t aware of this.”
Taking the deed, James looked it over. “Doune!” He read “I did not know of this! The King must have granted the lands to your father in the days of his excommunication. I had always thought Doune remained a royal estate.”
“I did not know of it either,” Walter confirmed, “though I suppose the King was ever wont to go his own way on these things. It is a large Barony, but not a Great one. The tax roll shows 10,000 acres of farmland, with another 120,000 of moors, mountain and lochs within the demense. Further, there are a number of small villages and hamlets, mostly to the West and North of the Castle, as well as the village of Doune itself. Currently it is administered by a Seneschal whose name is…”
“Sir Rattray,” James glimpsed the name, curling his lip in disdain. “You have ill luck, Liam. Though a Barony, the lands are likely mismanaged, and whatever wealth was left within the keep is likely gone. Rattray was ever disloyal and self-serving Castellan.”
Sir Walter snatched the parchment back without apology, looking over the document once more. He shook his head as he seemed to confirm the Lord of Douglas’ assessment of the man’s character. “The King had to put him somewhere after the trial, and Loyal men own much of the land around those at Doune. It was thought that there was little opportunity for him to hatch a new plot there.”
Liam, however, had stopped listening to the discussion about the man chosen to manage his estate. He still imagined what these lands were like. His lands, and his castle.
He could scarcely believe that his father–a man he never met–had owned so much and still given most his wealth to the church. But even the properties his father had held for him were wealth beyond anything he might have thought possible before.
He paused then, thinking about the bars of precious metals within his storage ring. It was likely that each of those could buy a castle entire. All of them together might gain him an Earldom of his own.
He grinned at the thought, until he realized he did not know how to run any of these estates, let alone an imagined Earldom.
The Lord of Douglas had watched the expressions of his Squire go from surprise, to pleasure, and now changing into something resembling a wary thoughtfulness. He smiled at the lad as their eyes met. “You seem to have worked out that this is not a mere fiefdom for you to play with, but a responsibility. You hold power over the fate of many people now. If you fail, it will mean they starve, or worse. If you succeed and abuse your authority they might become disloyal, something we can ill afford at any time. A Lord is not simply the owner of his lands, he is the caretaker, the lawmaker, and the protector. If we fail in our duty to maintain our people well, the entire land suffers. If that suffering continues unabated, we rapidly become Lords of naught but ashes and dust.”
Liam nodded, though he hadn’t considered that. He remembered those times when he and Duncan were bullied by some of the older boys of the town, Rupert among them. They’d cursed the Lord for not protecting them, and for allowing the winters to be so harsh. They’d cursed the noble lads for their finery and the attention they’d received from the town’s girls. From that, their work had suffered, and from that the Carpentry and Duncan's family had suffered. Liam had never considered that even the smallest of folk led lives which were ones of duty.
The only difference, he now understood, was the scale of that duty.
He resolved then to ensure that all his people were well cared for, and through them, Scotland, Christendom and eventually, all of Gods Earth.“If this Rattray fellow has hollow morals, who could replace him?” Liam asked. “I doubt I shall have much time to oversee the establishment of a school if I am to ride by your side, Lord.”
James thought for a moment. “I was wondering much the same. I presume you will spend your gold on buying the furnishings and materials you will need to set up the University, but that requires an honest Castellan. One who has a knowledge of management and an education to match.”
“If I may,” Walter said, standing. “There is one man I can suggest who might fill the position.”
Both Liam and James looked at the Chancellor expectantly.
The silence continued a moment before James twigged.
“You?”
“Of course, me!” The elderly Lord said crossly. “I am too old to be chancellor to a regent at war, or a boy-king, but I am not too frail that I cannot still be of use to my nation. The sounding of the horns has awakened a new desire in me to learn that I have not felt since I was a boy. If I can be at the centre of learning, I can–at the least–fulfill that need in me before I pass on to God’s good grace.”
The Lord Chancellor and Lord of Douglas turned to Liam. “Well, lad? What say you?”
Liam eagerly accepted the proposal and thanked the Chancellor profusely.
“It is of little consequence, young Squire. Once the new Regent is chosen, a younger and more profligate Chancellor who is amenable to the Regent's bidding shall likely replace me. Then I go back to being a mere Deacon. A caretaker of bees in an apocalypse? No! I thank you!”
“Besides, I have seen how your mind works. You are similar in many ways to King Robert. He never much cared to hoard wealth, but would see it put to good and godly uses.”
After receiving the Sir Walter's oath that he would proceed to Doune Castle and begin work on the University once a new Chancellor had been chosen, Liam withdrew long bars of gold, and more still of silver, from his storage ring. He wasn’t sure how much would be required, so tried to be generous while judging Lord Walter’s face.
As the man’s face reddened with mortification, Liam took one more bar of gold from within his storage ring. “This is for your services, Lord.” He said. “I do not know what accommodations or recompense should be available for you, but I would see you in comfort for your effort.”
“There is generous, Liam, and then there is showing off.” The Lord of Douglas said sternly. “With that amount of gold, he could raise an army and conquer London within the month. At least, he could have before the Tribulation began.” Liam could see his Lord struggling to hold back laughter.
“Better to save it. Grant whatever he doesn’t spend as a reward, if you will. It will probably see his grandchildren’s-grandchildren wealthier than most moneylenders.”
Liam nodded and replaced the last bar, seeing the embarrassment turn into a wide smile on the Lord Chancellors' face. “He isn’t wrong, lad. With the amount you’ve given me, there will be little need to fund the University or your lands for a good number of years. I shall be as comfortable as I ever will be. If you have much more, you may even see a depreciation of the value of Gold and Silver in the kingdom. Please do not be over-free with its use.”
Liam had not considered this last, but could see the wisdom in the man’s words. If too much gold was spent too quickly, coin would be devalued, and the economy of Scotland would grind to a halt. He'd have to be careful with his wealth from now on.
“As to the status of your lands, the inheritance was very specific: '…at your majority, or as you become a knight.’ You are–so Lord Douglas tells me–seventeen years of age, though you were only born thirteen ago, is that true?”
Liam nodded, displaying his age to confirm the fact.
“Very well.” Walter said, becoming stern. “Then I shall create your charter forthwith. Someone may still contest it until the year of our Lord 1331.” He said, giving the year Liam would have turned 15 had it not been for his experience in the Dungeon.
“It is possible they may seek to extend their tenure over your lands–Sir Rattray amongst them. Given your wealth, however, you may simply choose to buy their compliance if they choose to cause grievance. Your other choice would be to petition the regent.”
Just then, a small boy burst into the room. “Lord! Lord!” he cried, chest heaving with effort as he sought to form the words from the air huffing out of his lungs.
“They… They’ve begun… the… council….” He said, looking at all three nobles in the room expectantly.
“What?” James demanded, his brow furrowing. “Why was I not told?”
“Politics?” Walter suggested. The boy shook his head, showing that was not the cause, but was clearly to exhausted to speak more for now.
“Not Moray. He’s as loyal to the Law as a hound to its master. The Bishop may have had a hand in it.” The lad nodded. “Moray… sent.”
Liam shook his head as they tried to decipher the boy’s meaning. “I don’t think it intentional, Lord. None knew where we were unless they saw us enter this hall.”
“Either way, they can’t have gotten too far into the proceedings. We shall leave immediately, Liam.” James turned to the Lord Chancellor, clearly expecting him to join them. “Walter?”
“I shall be along shortly. Beg their Lordships to have patience. It shall take me some time to finish up here.”
Liam bowed low to the Lord Chancellor, who had already turned back to his work. With a smile, he followed the Lord of Douglas out of the Town Hall and into the street.
It didn’t take them long to reach the King's residence, and the guards were quick to admit them.
Entering the hall behind his Lord, Liam could see that many Lords and their attendants were present. Thomas Randolph, the Earl of Moray, stood in the centre of the hall, mid-way through an oratory on his position within the Kingdom and his close relationship to the King.
Moray’s relation to the King was common knowledge to most in the hall, as it was Robert the Bruce’s aunt who had given birth to Lord Moray.
Turning, the Earl spied James entering, and smiled warmly. “Douglas!” He cried. “I’m glad that boy found you. The Bishop said you had left for Saint Serf’s.”
Liam shot a glare at the Bishop which, went unseen as the Lord of Douglas bowed to the chamber. “My Lords, he was–as is his lot–mistaken. I was seeing to my Squire's inheritance and to some reward for his services to the Kingdom. I ask that he also be given a seat in these proceedings as the Baron of Doune.”
Liam had not expected this.
Clearly, from the loud commentary running between the lords in the hall, no one else had either.
“Doune? So that was what Robert gave him?” Moray muttered with a wry grin. “I welcome you, Liam Lamberton, Baron of Doune and gladly. I wish to extend you my apologies for earlier.”
In spite of the other nobles present, and showing no sign of embarrassment, the Earl gave Liam a bow.
“It has come to my attention that I have been wrong in my actions towards you of late. I can only give the poor excuse that when we first met, I was afeared of Magic, having not seen the like before. More recently at the Tournament I became distraught at the news of the death of my nephew, the King.” He said, giving a bow. “Were it not for you, we would have lost the day. For that, and for saving the FitzGilberts and Sir Campbell, I thank you.”
Surprised, as he’d been certain Moray held an intense dislike for him, Liam bowed low, and moved beside the Lord of Douglas to a seat at the head table.
A serjeant made a place for him next to his Lord, pouring both himself and Lord Douglas a glass of wine.
Leaning over, he heard Douglas whisper. “It is now your right as a Lord to take your place within the Kingdom. You are still my Squire, but now also a Laird in your own right. You may call me James when at table, or Sir if not.”
This news surprised Liam even more. “James? Sir? What of my Oath to you, Lord?”
He caught himself as James gave him a pointed look.
“James.”
“Better, lad.” Douglas said with a smile. To Liam’s surprise his Lord slapped him on the back in a companionable fashion.
“Welcome to the Nobility.”
Liam couldn't help it. A grin split his face from ear to ear.