Brisgald loomed like a claw reaching up to scratch the sky on a terrible horizon. Its keep was shaped like a crowned skull, and its towers were crooked and twisted. The villages around it were impoverished and laboring. Here or there, you could see merchants selling their wares. Some were as far away as the Furbearers of Southern Antion. There were also the pale and dark-haired men of Escor. Their roofs could have been better maintained, with roofs decaying and overgrown roadsides.
Meanwhile, the people were sick, starved, and malnourished. The militia, such as Vanion, had seen their drills. The backbone of the Harlenorian army needed to be kept in shape according to the regulations.
What would Borinius do if he had to raise an army? What would the people do if they had to submit one? It was the expectation that the people be strong enough to represent themselves. Was he trying to keep them weak?
As he walked on, watching an ox cart pass him by with a fat merchant, Vanion felt a sense of resentment. How did these men who were not warriors have more prosperity than him? They were buying up cartloads of grain and taking it down to Antion to feed the people there. King Andoa II created an extensive grain supply system for the populace. But as he aged, that supply system had become corrupt.
Vanion suspected that large amounts of the grain bought were being sold elsewhere. Likely to Sorn, who had little farmland and had not used the usual markets. House Kaba was well known for this trick, using black markets to bypass the usual channels. And those channels were worth less, with the Thieves Guild getting ever more powerful. The King's Road was filled with tollhouses and required endless bribes. So most people had to take backroads, where bandits wandered.
Vanion saw the bodies of men left hanging from trees as a warning. Birds had pecked their eyes out. A sign said that they were thieves who had been caught stealing food. An armed guard clad in heavy armor stood guard by them. Vanion approached them.
"Tell me, why are you men posted here?" he asked.
"Duke Borinius commanded that these be left to rot," said the guard, standing up straight. He had a beard and looked to not be hungry, but he looked uneasy about the corpses. "I'm to make sure no one comes along to take them down."
"What could they have done?" asked Vanion. One of them was a child. "Stealing food is not normally punished by hanging. Instead, the courts almost always order them given a redemption quest."
The guard bit his lip and looked incredibly uncomfortable. The commoners walked past the gallows laboring. "Well, there have been a couple of bad harvests these past years. Borinius sells many crops for a profit and uses them to buy luxuries and weapons. Some of these peasants tested his patience one too many times by asking to keep more of their crops. He had them hung.
"And so many people are going hungry now that there just isn't enough food. So everything has become a hanging offense, like in House Korlac out west."
"And what do you think of this?" asked Vanion. Vanion had always disliked John Korlac, the Heir to the House. The man maintained a ruthless order in his country. He hung criminals whenever possible. Though no one was going hungry like here, he was a shrewd politician and great warrior.
"It doesn't matter." said the guard. "I'm a man at arms. Borinius sees to it that my family and I are well-fed. What happens to these is his affair, not mine."
"Of course," said Vanion. "I apologize for asking." If someone didn't make it their affair, everyone here would die. But, of course, this would never have happened if King Andoa II hadn't abolished the militia system.
It had been created by Anoa the Bright to make sure the commoners could kill tyrannical nobles. It would take a mass uprising, but it gave them bargaining power. But in an era of peace and prosperity, the idiots had traded away their spears for silver. And now that silver had been melted into a collar.
As he moved closer to Brisgald, a mist fell over the lands. The trees began to change, seeming more and more claw-like. Soon, he could see little beyond the treetops save Brisgald looming overhead. Vanion recalled that Brisgald and Carn Gable had once been Withering domains. Then Anoa the Bright had purified Brisgald. He had conquered a great battle that had a dozen stories about it.
It did not involve directly taking the walls. Not even Anoa the Bright could seize Brisgald by force.
This could be said for every story about Anoa, really. He would likely have been a god if Anoa had not fiercely refused to have any god save Elranor. Finally, after years of misery and fighting, humanity had gotten Elranor. Elranor, the God of Death and Healing. It had been a bitter victory that Vanion thought was worth it.
Things only began to go wrong after Anoa won. Then his old enemies started seeking, and everything spiraled out of control.
But then, the castle did not look purified because of the oceans of blood Anoa had spilled. If anything, it was falling back into corruption beneath the mist rising in the woods. Moreover, the underbrush had not been cut, so any force trying to attack would find it easy to advance. So what had Borinius been doing all this time?
He ought to lose his titles. But no noble lost their titles anymore, ever since it became taboo to kill each other. The usual way a noble lost their titles was a death on the battlefield, but the era of peace brought by Andoa ended that. Now, Lady Atravain was buying up land with help from Kafka. And she was throwing off people who couldn't pay their debts. House De Chevlon was situated in Blackfear and other darker places. Their vampires stalked their people and other undead. And Gel Carn remained well protected under Hadleim and Sir Frederick.
Everything was set for Antion's destruction in a decade or two. Or for the Heir of Kings to arise and make everything right.
Only House Gabriel was left outside. In times of peace, Vanion had no prospects for advancement. In times of war, he was always subordinate to lesser men. Nevertheless, he knew his quality and would not bow again to Argath Marn. A corrupt and brutal raider, devoid of compassion and decency. Nor would he kiss the ground at Kafka's feet, a mere adventure chosen solely for talent at the battle.
And in Haldren, the last holdings of his house were on the verge of being taken. To be dismissed, thrown aside when no longer helpful. Many nobles spoke of the value of Carn Gable in front of him as though to mock him.
No.
Vanion would not bow to this Heir of Kings and take the role of a mere steward to a worthless
King like Gavin. Nor would he allow himself to the second of lesser men, devoid of cunning or intellect. He was Vanion Gabriel, victor of Desora, though Gail Arengeth might lie for eternity. He was the heir of Erik the Voyager, who wandered far across the lands and mapped the coasts of Calisha.
Brisgald would be his.
He had no use for the woman.
Vanion scaled a tree and found that it rose over the mist so he could see the countryside for miles. Seathorius was somewhere in the distance. Where it began, and Harlenor ended remained a matter of debate. That was likely why Melchious wanted to increase his influence in this place.
Well, Melchious would get nothing out of this deal.
Vanion knew that a man as careless as Borinius must have many dark secrets. It was likely he was already taking bribes. He would find his records and give them to King Andoa in the worst possible way. Vanion would destroy Borinius, this simpering weakling who let his people starve. He would strip him of everything, his title, rank, and dignity, for all that was his was rightfully Vanion's.
Argath Marn too, would lose everything before the end. But that would be a matter for another time. For now, Vanion had Borinius to settle with.
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However, a voice in his mind, the one who had tried to stop him, noted that bad things were already happening. And who was Vanion to stand in judgment?
"Ah, there you are," said Melchious, emerging from the mist. "I'm glad. Are you prepared?"
"As prepared as I will ever be," said Vanion bitterly.
"Excellent," said Melchious, motioning to Brisgald's gates with one hand. They groaned open. Out of them came a party who made their way down the slopes. "See now; the Duke is off on his hunting trip. Now is our chance."
He set a hand on Vanion's shoulder. There was a shifting in the world, and Vanion gasped. His voice was different, and he looked at his hands to find them different. Finally, he looked up to Melchious. "I appear as he does, then?"
"Of course," said Melchious. "Come, we must reach the gates. When the next morning dawns, the spell will be broken."
As they made their way through the trees, Vanion felt he was being watched. He was being watched with disapproval at that. He was sure what he was doing was wrong, but it was too late to return now.
Soon, they found the slope leading up to the gates of Brisgald. And Melchious had disappeared. Vanion scaled towards the gates, which loomed above him in the mist. He realized how foolish this entire thing was. He might appear as Duke Borinius, but he did not know anything he knew. He had none of his relationships or understanding. He didn't even see the interior of Brisgald. This was a foolish plan, even from a pragmatic perspective.
But a foolish act was better than decaying into nothingness.
"Who goes there?!" came the call. "...Duke Borinius, what has brought you back here so soon?"
He was caught. It would be best to improvise. "Something extraordinary has happened," he said. "I do not know where the hunting party is, for I cannot remember much. Not even names." What now? He could go to meet Isabella, but that would be suicide. Isabella had known Duke Borinius for years; she would detect that it was not him.
The gate opened, and a guard came forward, falling to one knee. There was no going back now.
"Take me to my office. There are documents I must see to," Borinius had an office, didn't he? Indeed, all lords needed such a place to attend to their duties.
"As you wish," said the guard, "Duke Borinius." Vanion had gotten lucky.
"And I'd rather not have too many people know I'm here," said Vanion. "Say nothing of my presence to anyone."
"Of course," said the guard.
When he was within, and the gates closed behind him, Vanion realized his error. He should have raced into the night when the call went out. Instead, the watchman had recognized him. Still, when the real Borinius returned, it could have been dismissed as a trick of the light. Now, he was well and truly stuck. He tried not to let his unease show as he was led to his office, and the door opened.
"Thank you," said Vanion, nodding to the guard. "Return to your watch."
Borinius' office was neat. Everything was sorted and filed into sections with various titles. Bookcases were nearly spilling. For a moment, Vanion was reminded of the library at Carn Gable, where he'd spent many an hour reading. It was a familiarity that helped soothe his shattered nerves.
Sitting down at a desk in the center of the room, he began to look through the various letters. It was partially because he was curious and wanted to take his mind off things. There were years' worth of notes in this place, all filed away with dates written. On one side of the desk was a locked black box.
Vanion decided to start with recent ones. He found many letters from Lords pledging their troops to the throne King Andoa II. This struck Vanion as odd. Artarq had been secured. The war had settled down as Calisha and Harlenor returned to lick their wounds. These sorts of messages would be natural ordinarily. But only if they were pledging to a full-scale military operation. At first, Vanion thought, they might have been misfiled. Yet there were dates on some of the letters, and they were recent, even days ago.
Something needed to be fixed here. Vanion began to search through the other documents, hoping to find information. Then, he found a letter from King Andoa II indicating that he was coming to visit Brisgald. It was recent. And there were others as well, letters of goodwill from an Arkan Lantan, a rising thief. And also, from Duke Letan Marn and several foreign dignitaries, as though he were King.
The door opened, and Vanion looked up to see Isabella looking through. Her beauty meant nothing to him now.
"Margravine," she said, "what are you doing back here?"
"Something came up," said Vanion. "I was reading through some old letters. One from the King, in particular."
"You had better not be having second thoughts now," hissed Isabella in sudden venom. "We're too deep now for you to draw out like you always do. Or are you saying you don't want to be King?"
This was going perfectly. Treason was afoot, and House Gabriel was not involved. Vanion could have Borinius and all his allies hung. Once they were, someone would have to replace them, and who better than the one who exposed them in the first place?
If nothing else, it would provide enough chaos in the ranks to advance by other means. Then, he could go far with Raynald and Rusara's support. "Of course not, dear," said Vanion. "I'm wondering where he is now."
"Moira tells me he is coming here now," said Isabella. "You'd know this if you consulted our castle sorcerer."
"Right, yes, of course," said Vanion. "...I think I shall go and rejoin the hunt in a moment."
"Good," said Isabella, "I need space from you." She crossed her arms. "What happened to bring you back here so quickly? And alone. You never go anywhere alone."
"I was separated from the others when a shadow passed over me, blacker than the darkest night," said Vanion. "I think I was knocked unconscious. When I awoke, I was lying down, and my head was fuzzy. The others were gone." So pathetic. Was this how Borinius allowed his wife to treat him? As though he were a stupid servant to be sent and directed as she willed?
"Well, whatever it was, it isn't my problem," muttered Isabella. "I'm going back to bed."
Vanion wanted to follow her as she left, but he crushed it. No, what he was doing here was far more critical. It was now clear that Duke Borinius was planning outright treason. With the King of Antion approaching Brisgald, he might very well be murdered if he came here.
Vanion had to get out of here. But first, he'd need proof of Borinius' misdeeds.
Looking through the various documents, he found ones that hinted at the true plan. Various statements offhand, which alone were not much, but together were suspicious. Borinius had been preparing an army, planning a coup. And it would begin when the King got here.
He opened the black box he'd seen and piled the relevant documents into it. Then, shutting it, he closed the box and stood up. Borinius' plans still needed to be completed. There was still time to stop the situation before it became a civil war. Vanion reminded himself that he must keep good intentions, as well as his advancement.
Rising from his seat, Vanion glanced behind him and saw that morning was coming. He carried the box with him out the door and into the hall. Then, quietly, he shut the door behind him.
He made his way quickly back the way he had come. Several times, he passed guards who greeted him, and he nodded to each one in turn. Each time, he feared he'd make some misstep that would reveal him as an imposter. The black box beneath his cloak felt heavier than the entire world.
Yet he did not misstep, and soon, he reached the gate.
"Sir," said a guard, "you mean to go out alone?"
"Yes," said Vanion, "there is something I need to attend to, and it won't wait."
"Are you certain?" asked the guard. "I could send some men with you."
The morning was coming. Vanion could see the sun's aura radiating in the distance. He was running out of time. "This must be done alone," said Vanion. "Now open the gates, damn you."
The gates creaked open slowly. What took only moments seemed to take ages, but at last, Vanion walked through. Making his way down the path as quickly as he dared, he reached the road and walked faster. This situation had to be dealt with.
As he walked down the path, the wind wailed through the trees. The branches leaned downward ever closer, and the mists arose again. Vanion could sense something in the clouds and put one hand on his sword.
"Where do you think you are going, Vanion?" came the simple question.
Vanion felt his heart skip a beat. His body was freezing; his hands were shaking. The morning must have dawned, for the disguise melted away around him. His skin was crawling as a shadow loomed in the mist. Vanion drew his sword and turned toward the shadow, yet it was gone.
"Well?" came the question.
"I'm going to report Duke Borinius' treason," said Vanion. He'd been hoping to get out without being seen. So, his best bet was that Melchious could not hurt him. But, just in case, he readied to draw his sword.
"That was in no way part of our arrangement," said Melchious.
"Indeed?" asked Vanion. "Well, other arrangements have been made. That plan of yours was terrible. I had no idea where Borinius' bedroom was, let alone how to impersonate him."
"Are you trying to cheat me?" asked Melchious, amused.
"I would have thought you, a demon, would hold an appreciation for what I am doing. Instead, I am following the letter of an arrangement. All while ignoring its intent," said Vanion. He was trying to put on a bold face. "Nothing has been born of my lust, and so nothing is your due."
"Is that so?" asked Melchious. "I understand it all too well."
A shadow swooped out of the mist, and Vanion ducked as a black claw went for his throat. Lashing out with his sword, Vanion felt it impact something, and there was a screech of pain. His sword was grabbed and wrested from his hand, and his enemy bore down on him, gripping his neck and squeezing.
Choking, Vanion drew out a dagger and stabbed wildly. The grip loosened with an unholy shriek, and he broke free, slashing desperately. Then, something lashed out and threw him across the dust. Stunned, he was barely able to roll aside as the shadow descended. With his hands, Vanion tried to keep it away from him, and they grappled there, rolling in the dust. Its claws were leaving bloody gashes in his arms. With every passing moment, the shadow was getting closer to his throat.
Then, a beam of white light shot out of the mist and hit the shadow. It screamed and took flight as a man in pure white armor that concealed his face came into sight. Vanion winced at the pain of his wounds. The shadow returned. Yet the man raised his sword in a challenge, and the creature hesitated. It fled.
"Well, you've had an eventful day, haven't you," said the man. "What possessed you to travel alone?"
"Pure idiocy," said Vanion, finding the black box and picking it up. "My thanks to you. May I ask your business in these parts?"
"I am walking ahead of the King's entourage," said the knight. "Might I ask you the same question?"
"I am Vanion Gabriel," said Vanion. "I have an urgent message for King Andoa. It cannot wait." He paused. "It is a matter of treason."
The man drew off his helm, and Vanion stared in shock as he beheld who it was he had been speaking. He stood up straight and fell to one knee as the man came forward.
"Really?" asked King Andoa II of Antion. "Do tell."
Now, to tell the story right.