The home of Lord Gildynaepple was vast, even from a distance. Even from the outer edge of the city the imposing castle walls could be seen, and beyond them loomed the great tower that sat atop Lord Gildynaepple’s manor. The tower’s shadow, with the sun beginning to set behind it, cast itself across the entire city, leaving the procession of horses and men-at-arms in chilly shade as they approached.
As they entered the castle’s gates, Alden looked up at the towering manor in front of them and gaped silently. The tower was an unnecessarily large thing, as were the castle’s high, thick walls. The city itself was surrounded by walls just as high and just as thick, to defend against any would-be invaders. To Alden, having another layer of them defending only the Lord’s own residence was an act of paranoia. Or, perhaps, a subtle method of separating the Lord from his people.
The manor’s exterior was, in a word, plain. There were no fountains and no statues, the hedges, what few there were, were cut short in base geometric form, and, most noticeable of all, armed soldiers could be seen lining the manors walls at even increments. Disciplined, hardy men, trained to wait and guard no matter the time of day and no matter if it rained or snowed or if the sun beamed hot rays of light down upon them. That was the rumor, at least, and by a glance Alden thought it might be true.
Entering the manor, they were greeted by a massive room almost as sparse as the exterior. Its floors were glossy black and white marble, along the walls were decorative suits of armor, and above them was a brilliant chandelier of silver and crystal that gave off a warm, yellow light. On the far end was another set of doors that stretched a quarter way up to the ceiling.
The doors opened.
“Ah, Lord Lyonpool,” Lord Gildynaepple said, all smiles. “It is good to see you again.”
Alden returned the smile and bowed. “It is good to see you as well, my lord,” he lied. Being here was of necessity, and little more. “I must say, your manor is not quite what I expected.”
Lord Gildynaepple let out a hearty laugh. “Barren, or so says the Lady Gildynaepple. And my mother, before her, may she rest in the embrace of the Gods. Well, as I said to them, I shall say to you, my lord. Decoration, to me, is but a poor use for coin when enemies frolic about. Better to have cold steel in my warm hands than to have my enemies steal from my cold, dead hands, don’t you think?”
“There is wisdom there, I wager,” Alden admitted. Still, he cast another glance over the room and his eyes felt restless from lack of anything to focus on.
“There is much wisdom there, my lord, I promise you that. Come, come, let me show you.”
Lord Gildynaepple took them through the doors he had originally appeared from, which led to a room half as large as the first. But where the main hall had been barren, this room, an armory, possessed no shortage of materials.
Along the wall were suits of painted armor, each suit beset by swords or axes or spears or halberds. Taking up the center of the room were rows of weapon racks filled with shining gray steel death. Lord Gildynaepple walked down a row of racks, idly eyeing the pieces as if they were new to him.
“This room alone has some six hundred weapons,” he said, the words were intended to impress. “I have more in other rooms, of course. Enough to equip more than three thousand men-at-arms. Two thousand, technically, should it ever come to war. Weapons break, after all. Men die, too, but weapons break more often, I believe, and are in constant need of replacing. The point is, I am well equipped, my lord, more so than the other Lake Lords, I can assure you.”
“I have no doubt,” Alden said.
“As well you shouldn't!” he said, leading Alden through another door that led back outside. “Most of the others don’t listen to me, I know. They call me paranoid behind my back. Some even have the gall to say as much to my face. But I don’t concern myself with the opinions of the unprepared, except where I stand to benefit in matters of trade. What I do concern myself with, my lord, is war. Something you know firsthand, I’m told.”
“That I do,” Alden said. Lord Gildynaepple smiled.
“Then you understand, I take it, that one must be prepared for anything, and at all times. An attack can come at any time and from any direction, and to be caught unawares is to invite destruction. That is why we must–the Lake Lords, I mean–must work together to patrol Chaudlac Lake. There will be pirates upon Chaudlac’s waters within the decade, I swear my life on it.”
“They are already here,” Alden said.
Lord Gildynaepple turned to him, confused. “They are?” he asked.
“They are, or so I believe. A few of my towns have been attacked recently; one from two weeks ago, and another just a few days passed, after I had requested this meeting with you, my lord. Both times I went after them with my men, scouring the towns and their outskirts for signs of where they might have come from. And both times I was led to the beaches of Chaudlac, where I found nothing but more tracks.”
Lord Gildynaepple stared at him as if he’d grown two heads and was in the middle of growing a third. Surprised to be right, for once? This sort of hesitation was unexpected and Alden didn’t like what it might have meant.
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Eventually Lord Gildynaepple nodded his bald head, having come to a conclusion about something.
“You want help, is that it?” he asked.
“I want a pact. A defensive pact between us, so that when trouble rears its ugly head again we can work together to chop it off.”
“You want help, my lord, that’s what you want. You can’t fight these pirates yourself–you don’t have the ships to patrol your land and waters, nor the men to do it–and so you want me to step in and do it for you. I have the boats, I have the men, and I have the experience and the will to do what needs to be done. Not easy things to gather together, but quite effective once you do. Gildynaepple Barony has not been met with any significant violence in many years. And, in the end, it means that you need me. But I do not need you, my lord.”
“Then why send out letters to the Lake Lords asking for cooperation?”
“Preparation! It is not men and swords that deter these blights, Lord Lyonpool, but preparation! A sword is useless without a man to swing it, and a man with a sword is useless when criminals know he will be too far away to swing it at all. What do we do, then? Prepare for these miscreants! Prepare for them and when they come seeking easy pickings they will fall right into any trap we lay, and their corpses will serve to deter the other blackhearted scum who would destabilize our great nation.”
Producing from his jacket a long cigar, Lord Gildynaepple lit it with a small conjured flame and took a long, deep drag of it. “Smoke?” he asked, blowing out a fragrant cloud of gray smoke.
“No, thank you.”
Taking another drag, Lord Gildynaepple admired the cigar with a pleased look. “I’ll be clear, my lord. I won’t do it.”
Alden scowled down at the smoking Baron, wondering what he should say. Refusal had not been in the cards, or so he thought.
“Is this a conditional ‘won’t’ or an absolute?” he decided to ask.
The Baron gnawed on the end of his cigar a moment, a gray-white pillar of smoke rising from its lit end. “Conditional, I suppose. You don’t have much to offer me. Not in the way of material things, or manpower, or even good territory or trade. Don’t give me that look, I’m not meaning to insult you, my lord, and we both know it’s true. But you are a baron nonetheless. Nobility. Maybe not the finest of our kind in terms of resources, and some might begrudge you your common background, but your station is an admirable one by any measure. So…”
Lord Gildynaepple paused to stretch, put out his cigar, and snapped his fingers. One of his guards broke off and disappeared into the manor.
“It is a shame to say,” Lord Gildynaepple began again, “that I have been lax in the treatment of my youngest daughter. I have four children, you see, three daughters and a son, who I do believe you met under less than pleasant circumstances. Now, my daughters…do you have any children of your own?”
“None,” Alden replied.
“Just as well, I should think. Don’t get me wrong, my children are the light of my world, but to keep that light burning requires a great deal of effort. Ensuring that they will all live long and happy lives is one such task that saps up all my efforts like a glutton. Yet I’m left uncertain as to just how effective my efforts have been. My oldest is to be married next year, I’m not worried about her. My second, she has many suitors from the north, handsome second and third songs who’ve come all the way down to Chaudlac to see her on more than one occasion. First sons, too, though they don’t come down quite so often. They have their pick, them. Most come from good families. But my third…”
He lit his cigar again, taking a long drag of it and puffing out a large, ring-shaped cloud. Admiring it for a moment he seemed at ease, the topic seemed almost forgotten. Then he looked at Alden and remembered, and he was tense again.
“I want you to marry my youngest daughter,” he said.
Alden didn’t know what to make of that, other than to stare. Then a glimpse of Amice passed through his mind, and he frowned.
“I know what I’m asking,” Lord Gildynaepple said, holding up his hands as if willing to keep Alden still. “Sudden as a fight, I know, but it’s my offer. You marry her and I’ll enter a defensive pact with you, and in a month’s time these brigands of yours will be hanged.”
Sudden. That was one issue, certainly, but only one of many.
“Why me?”
Lord Gildynaepple shrugged, turned away. A dark look came over him then as he brooded. “She’s…” He paused. “My youngest isn’t…normal. She’s ah… the poetic sort. Everything’s a riddle with her. And she sees things, and hears things. Things that aren’t really there. Aren’t supposed to be there, at least. Then she’ll ramble on and one in a cryptic fashion that hardly anyone can understand, and even if you do understand it isn’t always that useful. She predicted one of my maids was pregnant, for instance. Even knew it was to be a baby boy. And that the father was one of my own knights.”
“And you think I’d be the best pairing?” Alden asked.
Rounding back to Alden, the baron observed him with careful eyes, scrutinizing every detail. He seemed pleased with what he saw.
“Oh, certainly, my lord. Do not take offense, but you are as strange as my daughter if even half the rumors are true. And new as you are, with the proper aid from myself your territory might flourish to some degree or another. Certainly enough to keep her safe. Maybe even happy, if you have it in your heart to accept her, and in hers to do the same to you. Though it is the ‘safe’ part that I am most keen on.”
Amice flashed in his mind again, along with a pang of guilt. ‘No’, after all, was not the first response to come to mind.
“May I see her first?” Alden asked.
Lord Gildynaepple smiled, his teeth stained a deep, almost grotesque yellow from years of smoking. “Of course.”