Yvonne led Valentin away while Quinten began issuing orders to satisfy the Clan Leader’s steep request. Before they reached the front gate to the estate, armed guards began to group around the Matriarch and her guest.
Once they reached the cobbled streets of the Aranelle Quarter, the guards formed a loose circle and began to ward away the people on the street. Other guards that were milling around by the shops or the dice circles also joined in to clear an open path for their noble employer. While Valentin watched the scene with a mixture of awe and concern, Yvonne walked with the casual tempo of someone who lived their everyday life witnessing such things.
“You must have a large clan,” Valentin spoke up.
“That is by virtue of my father, your grandfather. He was a man of…many mistresses you could say. I only have one sibling that I shared a mother with.” Yvonne trailed off momentarily in remembrance of the lost days of youth. “While I didn’t mind having many siblings growing up and cared little about whether or not our mother was the same, in adulthood, some have grown quite petulant. That’s politics I suppose.”
Yvonne spoke with a sigh as though the last portion imbued her soul with melancholy. Valentin went silent for a moment, burning with curiosity about the family that he didn’t know that he had.
“Was Grandfather a good man?”
“No,” Yvonne answered with unnatural speed. “He was a terrible man and the world is worse off to have given birth to him. He killed scores of people and kidnapped all of his wives as war prizes. He built a fort on top of the Thuad River Bridge and tolled an exorbitant fee to cross, placing those who could not pay in servitude. In fact, many of the houses you see around us are populated by the children and grandchildren of people that he conquered while he was a mercenary.”
“I see,” Valentin responded, attempting to hide his disappointment at the answer.
The pair and their armed escorts exited the city through the north gate. A few hundred paces further up the road stood a massive stone bridge. It steeply arched into the air to allow for the high masts of vessels to pass under it. Flanking the river on both shorelines stood gated fortresses. Guards stood beneath the portcullis with officials in multicolored robes and collected their tithes from those that passed through.
“There it is,” Yvonne gestured towards the fortress. “Now, it is mine.”
“You were allowed to keep it?” Valentin asked with shock. “Did the Tiarna not do anything about it?”
“I was told that Tiarna Bellafon found the entire situation hilarious and was frustrated he had never considered it before. So he asked for a portion of the toll money in exchange for land and appointment as Marshal of Verbosc. I don’t charge the same amount as Father did, but it still easily pays for our lifestyle.”
The woman pointed to a village on the other side of the river. A water wheel was slowly churning from the power of the current. The wooden paddles endlessly dripped with the water that it collected from the river.
“That is our mill,” Yvonne informed. “We charge the villages of the east bank to use it. We see a large spike in revenue every harvest.”
Valentin nodded but a different train of thought had been dominating his mind in the past couple moments. “Why did Father never talk about any of this?”
Yvonne sighed and started to usher Valentin back into the city, “Roland disowned himself to preserve peace in the clan. He asked for a large sum of money in return for his departure. Honestly, I would have given him much more than he asked for.”
“Did you not get along?”
“We did not.” Yvonne paused to collect the right words. “It wasn’t always that way though. Roland and Gilles were born to Father’s last wife, Tassiva. I was from the first and was already nearing my twelfth Killicia when they came into this world. Tassiva was only a few cycles older than I so we got along well. I spent a lot of time with her and doted over her two boys. Gilles was a sweet and warm boy that always wanted to be held. Roland always stared deeply into things in quiet contemplation as though he was trying to strip the secrets from them.”
They wound their way through the streets of the Aranelle Quarter. Even without directly speaking of the area, Yvonne was showing Valentin the extent of the Guerros Clan’s power. Every person they encountered in the crisscrossing back streets of the area bowed deeply to the passing Matriarch, each a subject under her influence.
“When my Bloodstone glowed with favor, my father immediately named me his successor and started training me to follow his ideals. He was a Strettian that believed ardently in the strength of one’s blood. Unless another sibling had a better result, my destiny was determined. For a long time, it was unopposed, until Gilles got a glow similar to my own. It was then that everything fell apart.
It is common that a clan with children from multiple parents will fight for supremacy when the clan leader passes. For many cycles, I had gone uncontested in this ascension and was specifically trained to replace Father. However, now Gilles began to act very differently to the boy that I knew and helped raise. He spoke about joining a mercenary warband to prove his strength. He called for tutors and to meet Father’s associates to grow connections. Gilles would offer solutions to issues that I knew he would have never come up with himself.
He never said it, but I’m certain that my father enjoyed the idea of a conflict over power. That he hated the fact that I was going to get my way without so much as a struggle; that it would somehow make us all weaker for it.”
Yvonne’s eyes shimmered with sadness when she paused in her story. They passed through a small but busy market square lined with inns and taverns. A mixture of aromas from the arranged stewpots wafted through the air in a harmonious dance. People dined on the day’s specials in the shade of the terraces. The diners and shop owners that noticed the passing clan leader bowed in respect and reinforced to Valentin just how large the clan’s influence spread.
Once they had entered another side street, she continued her tale. “I was forced to leave my young son and join a warband at twenty seven cycles old to show my capabilities. It was there that I learned that I was truly my father’s daughter. In the thin margins between life and death, I found revelry in the closeness I shared with my foe as I delivered them back to the Great Spirit. I knew that I was a capable warrior but I wish I had never found out about my bloodlust.”
“It was there that I met Sleibhin and learned what love was.” Yvonne expressed a warm smile at the mention of the man. “My marriage with my first husband was arranged for me for the purpose of acquiring more land. We felt little for each other and our child was born out of a sense of duty. We both loved Arlo deeply, but his birth didn’t bring us love like we had hoped. Things between us are still cordial and respectful. Sorry, I’m getting off topic.
I had assumed, without Gilles or myself present at the estate, tensions would cool down. However, when we returned from campaigning, things had only gotten worse. Siblings were now taking sides and openly quarreling with one another. They were using their personal guards to engage in skirmishes. Fist fights and arguments regularly broke out during meals. I could see on my father’s face how much he enjoyed the suffering we were experiencing. He told us that, finally, we were taking initiative. It was the first time he felt we were his children.
I had to go sibling to sibling trying to uncover the source of their squabbling. Personal secrets had been revealed, pride had been wounded, and gossip burned through our land. Even the nearby peasants had started to form an opinion on the matter of succession. I had to find the person responsible and quickly if I wanted to stifle the rising tides of conflict.”
“My father was behind it, wasn’t he?” Valentin asked solemnly. He knew the answer already. His father had attempted to teach him the ways of subterfuge, but the lessons never made an impression on the boy.
“Yes, Roland was the originator of the strife that had gripped our clan. Roland had everything that Father should have been looking for in a successor. Business acumen, calculating ruthlessness, and an intense charisma. The only thing he lacked was favor and it embittered him deeply to be overlooked. I should have done a better job trying to cultivate his talents and make him feel like he belonged. Much could have been prevented that way.”
The growing sound of clanging metal halted the conversation. Yvonne led Valentin into the craftsman’s district. The unpleasant and discordant scent of different work odors and greases assailed Valentin. Four people were hard at work in a smithy. Valentin could spot the broad-shouldered metal workers hunched over their pieces.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
“We will place our conversation on hold for a moment,” Yvonne said when they reached a nearby stone storefront.
Valentin followed the woman inside to reveal an interior full of apparel. Along the left wall was woven cloth in a variety of vibrant colors and thread thicknesses. Completed pieces awaiting the purchaser’s arrival could be seen peeking out through the doorway of the backrooms and, if caught at the wrong time of day, could give a spectral appearance. Fitted armors of all different styles and prices rested on stands lined the right wall. However, it was clear by the prominent crests and design flourishes that the majority of these were custom pieces ordered out by the prominent clans of the city.
A balding man with bushy forearms walked out of the backroom. He wiped his reddened face with a cloth and shoved the used fabric into a pocket. Noticing the two new customers within his store, he donned a congenial smile and approached them.
“Marshal Guerros, what brings you to my shop on this fine day?” The shop owner bowed deeply before the woman.
“Daga,” Yvonne addressed the man, allowing him to return to an upright position before continuing. “Do you still have the brigandine that our clan returned to you last cycle?”
“Ah, I do,” Daga answered with an audible exhale. “I’ve been unable to sell it no matter how many times I’ve said that a druid has removed the trace amount of spirit that had stayed inside of it. You wish for it back?”
“I’d like it refitted for this boy here. He’ll be campaigning this cycle and it wouldn’t do to have him go unprotected.”
Valentin shot Yvonne a look of surprise but the woman only smiled at him.
Daga lowered himself to inspect the boy. “He is a bit of a diminutive lad. Do you truly mean it when you say he will be going to battle?”
Yvonne’s face darkened slightly while her smile remained kind. “Am I the kind of person that jests about such things? Especially when it comes to that specific piece?”
“No, Marshal Guerros,” Daga offered an apologetic bow showing the reddening patch of skin at the top of his head. The man quickly scurried out of the room and into the backrooms.
“Are you sure you want to give me something that important?” Valentin questioned. “What if I’m not accepted?”
“Whether or not we end up assenting to Ferron’s plan, you are still our clansman,” Yvonne replied matter-of-factly. “I would not be able to sleep at night knowing that I had failed at possibly my last chance to rectify past mistakes. Your hesitance to accept it tells me that I will be making the right decision.”
“Thank you, Aunt Yvonne,” Valentin spoke softly.
He felt a hand tussle his hair and he recoiled slightly in surprise. “Aren’t you a precious boy?” Yvonne cooed warmly. “Of course I will have to figure out how to manage the reactions of the bereaved.”
“Huh?”
Daga reentered from the backroom with a young man in tow. Daga and the assistant were carrying out an armor stand that held a small brigandine. The dark green cloth padding was riveted with iron and protected the torso and shoulders. Underneath was a brown padded doublet that covered the arms and extended below the beltline. A mail shirt separated the two layers of cloth. An iron helm with mail dangling down the sides sat atop the rack.
They set it before Valentin. Now that he stood directly in front of it, he was surprised that such a small piece had been ordered. It was as though it had been commissioned for him in secret. However, his excitement over the piece waned when he noticed Yvonne quivering next to him.
Daga held up a string with many tiny, equidistant lines marked on it. The assistant held up an ink quill and a small paper pad. The man held up the string to different parts of Valentin’s body. Around his chest, his waist, fingertip to fingertip, his neck, and all manner of different angles and values. All Daga would provide was a number that the assistant quickly scribbled down before he moved to the next part of Valentin’s body.
There was something strange about being measured. To have someone impassively so close, inspecting and examining every detail of you. The boy squirmed in discomfort to have to hold position while the tailor completed his tasks.
“You may relax, I have what I need,” Daga announced and Valentin quickly dropped his arms and slouched a bit.
Daga took the piece of paper with the measurements and inspected them closely. “There will not need to be much alteration done. The chest and waist needs some reduction and the sleeves need to be lengthened. Generally, he is a bit smaller than the original wearer. Would you like it fully reduced?”
“No, I’m sure that he will start growing soon and I’m sure he doesn’t want to be constricted inside of it,” Yvonne replied. “What do I owe you for the alterations?”
“The adjustments are simple and can be completed by tomorrow. I will not charge you to return to you such an emotional piece. Consider it my gratitude for the cycles of peace under your watch,” Daga answered with a bow and the assistant quickly copied him.
“Your kindness is recognized, Daga,” Yvonne replied warmly. “Someone will return to collect it on my behalf. Come, Valentin, we must return to the estate.”
The two returned to the street and the contingent of guards immediately returned to their positions around the pair. The cacophony of the sounds of work had significantly died down. Most had turned to their meals to provide them with the energy to finish the day. Valentin’s stomach, his best timekeeper, rumbled in acknowledgment of the hour. Down into the side streets they descended, the scant people that loitered in front of the homes had left to find a steaming bowl of stew.
“Where were we?” Yvonne asked the empty street. “Ah yes. I eventually determined that Roland was the cause and confronted him. I will not go into details about our meeting, you just need to know that I acted in a regrettable way. However, that does not justify what Roland did in response.
He did not act immediately. He continued to sow the seeds of discord in the clan over the next few cycles while Gilles and I campaigned all over Strettia in the pursuit of our father’s approval. I thought he was uncertain of his next move now that I had found him out. I was wrong, he was deepening the schism in the clan, attempting to make the differences irreconcilable. He slowly used the connections that he had Gilles pursue to build a network that he could exploit when the time was right to strike.
I think it was the death of Tassiva that altered Roland to go beyond the pale. She developed an illness that quickly sapped her of all of her life. Father said disparaging things about her weakness and refused to help. The siblings avoided her to avoid catching whatever it was themselves. Even I was wary of the potential. She died alone in a locked room. Roland and Gilles didn’t know that she had died until they went to visit her the following day to find an empty room. Father had her body taken far away from the estate and burned quickly. I was heartbroken but my rivalry with Roland prevented me from sharing the true depths of my grief.
Days later, I returned from a patrol to see smoke billowing from the area near our estate. I drove my horse into a lather to arrive that much sooner. The estate was in flames and my clan was at war. Instead of tending to the inferno, they were skewering each other with their personal retinues. Only a handful of panicked servants attempted to quell the flames until I ordered my own guard to assist in the efforts. My father sat within the gazebo and cackled at the carnage that surrounded him. His madness only encouraged it further. What child wouldn’t want to have their father’s elusive approval?
Eventually, the flames were drowned and the bloodlust subsided and those of us that remained collected the dead and wounded. Many good people, including my mother, perished that day. My sweet boy, Arlo, was ill from breathing the smoke and wounded by falling debris. Siblings that I had known since they were infants lay dead.
Now that things had calmed down, I felt myself overtaken with a gripping, encompassing rage towards those that had taken so much from me. I scoured the estate for signs of the perpetrator and noticed something interesting, all of Roland’s and Gilles’ important belongings had been moved from the building days prior. It wasn’t proof, but I pursued it anyway.”
Yvonne’s voice still quaked with sadness and anger even all these cycles later. Valentin knew he wouldn’t be told this story unless the person that caused all this loss was his father. It was difficult to believe, he knew that Roland was capable of much in the way of manipulation and subterfuge, but this was extreme.
“I found him at the watermill, counting the profit. I shouted at him if he knew about the fire and he seemed unsurprised by the event. He called it an unfortunate incident that we had to rise above. I kept pressing him about his culpability but he didn’t admit to anything. He said that they moved their belongings because they had no further interest in living in a place that was so cruel to their mother. I had no proof of his actions and any retribution would be seen as unjustified. I felt cornered, once again outmaneuvered, and I feared that I would have to commit the unforgivable offense of kin killing with my own hands.
He gave me three options: Kill him right there and be his equal, concede my claim to lead the clan and let Gilles take over, or to pay twenty thousand silver eagles for him to disappear to never be seen.” Yvonne held up a finger for each option she listed and made a bitter face.
“Does anyone have that much money?” Valentin said in shock.
“Of course they do,” Yvonne responded in a slightly braggadocios way. “Admittedly, it was most of our wealth. When I asked him why that much, he said that he was going to create a new clan and show everyone just what he was capable of. Obviously, I took that arrangement and by the next morning, he was gone. A few cycles later, Gilles left without a trace. I haven’t heard from them since. Though it sounds like Roland has been working hard.”
“The Steward of Briste visited our estate last cycle,” Valentin admitted. “He was offered to be a Deputy Chamberlain.”
“I see. I don’t know if I should be proud or enraged,” Yvonne commented with a twisted expression. “I suppose I should just be thankful you weren’t crafted in his exact image.”
Valentin walked silently for a moment, something still felt off to him. “Why did Uncle Gilles go along with all of Father’s plans?”
“Gilles trusted Roland with every fiber of his being,” Yvonne answered bitterly. “Everything that Roland promised Gilles, he would make it happen. So all he did was exactly what Roland said. When we campaigned together, it was obvious that Gilles was no mastermind, he had not changed since he was a boy. I even asked him why he would go to war and put himself in danger for Roland. All he did was shrug and say that Roland trusted that he’d return and he trusted that Roland’s plans would work like always.”
“Did you tell everyone what he had done?” Valentin asked.
“I had no proof and a servant vouched that he had been in the water mill all day so I did not directly incriminate Roland to the clan. However, without his presence, the clan started to put together the pieces to his plans and machinations. While we will never know if he set fire to the estate, he had done enough before that to earn the ire of all those that remain.”
The guards at the gate bowed and allowed their clan Matriarch back into the estate. It was clear that the amount of people within the walls of the Guerros estate had grown since they had left. Curious gazes targeted the unfamiliar boy that walked so closely to Yvonne and he tried his best to obscure himself behind the woman.
“Now we will see whether they wish to support his son.”