“It is said that if a Callirian spits on you, it will bring you good fortune. I would rather stay unlucky, if that's the case.
-traveller”
* * *
Astrael
A few days after he spoke to Rina and Julia, his target came to see him personally. Astrael, of course, feigned ignorance and denseness as Leon Feanir inquired about his project, and kept doing so even when the knight's enthusiasm betrayed his secret agenda.
“Are you sure it's fine?” Astrael asked in a hesitant tone.
Leon chuckled and flashed one of his charming smiles. “I told you not to worry about that. You can change clothes once we arrive, if you're still bothered, but there's no need really.”
He sighed, then acted as if he was giving up. In truth, he was too busy revelling in the success of his gamble to care about etiquette. But a normal child would not be that nonchalant, and so he had to appear somewhat uneasy.
“Still,” Leon said with an amused grin, “You're going to have dinner with one of the most powerful families in Callir, and all you care about is how you're dressed?”
Astrael shrugged as he stepped inside the coach. “My appearance could be seen as a lack of respect.”
“Ha! You are indeed a strange child. That's something for adults to worry about,” he declared before nodding to the coachman. The sound of the whip reached his ears, and then they were moving. They rode toward the inner-city, while Astrael gazed at the streets with unfocused eyes. The main road that began at the southern gates kept going after the main plaza until it reached the keep on the hill.
They climbed the slope and were stopped by guards when they were about to enter the inner-city. Astrael caught a glimpse of the wall circling it, and the small towers on each side of the entrance. The coachman spoke a couple of words to the soldiers, and one of them glanced through the window. Leon saluted him with a nod, and the guard apologized in a clumsy bow.
“The citywatch?” Astrael inquired once they got moving again.
The knight shook his head. “Oh, no, they're probably Danalion's men. They're everywhere, haven't you noticed?”
Not really... He should have gone outside more, these last few days, to get a better feel of the city instead of bumming around in the temple. Are they allowed to set up checkpoints like that? Bah, not that I care, he thought. However, it hinted at how much power the Danalion house wielded, so he did actually care.
Perhaps his thoughts were somehow betrayed by his expression, or else Leon deemed it necessary to explain further. “He is just showing off, this is how he tricks the pleb into respecting him. Lord Elric Danalion wields the carrot and the stick – here you witnessed the latter.”
And so the carrot would be... handing out food and supplies to the people. That's what he and Therenus were talking about the other day. Astrael rested his chin against his fist, elbow on the armrest. His precious carrots come from Ocia, if I recall. Well, a part of it, at least. Ocia was among the most prosperous Vieran cities, but it wasn't the closest to Callir, so it was safe to assume that lord Danalion had dealings with the other city-states too. Actually, it was safer to surmise that he had many other means of seducing the people.
“Isn't he feared by the citizens, then?” he pretended to inquire, as to confirm his suspicions. “They must know how dangerous it is, to have patrols and guards making the law in the city-state.”
Leon observed him in the corner of his eye for a second, then lightly shook his head. “He has ways to please them too,” he replied vaguely, but for now that was enough for Astrael. “The situation is such that he is both feared and loved. They esteem him for his charity, but know he has authority. Similarly, they fear what he could do with his men, but are appeased knowing that he would rather help them instead.”
“I see.” A benefactor respected, loved, and feared, for both his display of kindness and military might.
The knight gave him another glance, brow raised. “Do you, really?”
Hey, you saw my plans for the crossbow. He frowned, answering Leon with silence only. Are you not convinced yet that I'm a bright child, entirely worthy of your attention and favour?
Astrael and Leon eventually arrived at the Feanir estate. The residence was a two floored manor, built in the same architectural fashion as the rest of Callir's buildings, only with more taste and the mandatory display of wealth. Smooth sand-coloured stones, brownish-red tiles, exquisite sculptures and glass windows. They got off the coach and went through the gates leading to a large courtyard. From here, one could access the stables, the armoury, and the manor itself. Thin columns supporting galleries around the entrance, then arched doors leading to balconies at the upper floors.
Servants came to welcome Leon Feanir, and he told them to make arrangements for supper, and to inform the rest of the household of a guest's presence. Leon then turned to Astrael and motioned for the armoury.
“I don't suppose you're in the mood for waiting,” he said with a confident smile, “so why don't we get to business?”
He complied and they entered the room. A slave neared Leon to help him unstrap his armour, and in the meantime Astrael was left to observe the contents of the armoury. In the badly lit room, it was mostly the light coming from the door that was reflected against the steel of the blades and armour pieces displayed on the various racks. Longswords, rapiers, suits of plate on dummies, all sorts of finely crafted gear was just laying around here, and most would probably never be used by anyone save for the occasional painting commission or ceremonial event.
As he admired the beautiful weaponry, Astrael could feel Leon's watchful eyes studying his reactions. The jingling sounds of the knight's armour being undone by the slave were the only noise hindering the silence and preventing it from reigning in the room.
“What do you think?” Leon eventually asked. Astrael glanced back to see the young man stretching and massaging his shoulders in his arming doublet, while the slave went to put the armour away. He came back with a bowl containing perfumed water of some sort, which Leon used to wash his hands and his neck.
What do I think, huh? He sighed. What was an eight year-old supposed to think? He could act all merry and excited, but he had a feeling it would seem suspicious and out of character. “It's an impressive collection,” he said. “A shame to let it rust here when it could be shining on the battlefield.”
Leon raised a brow. “And what battlefield are we talking about ? I, for one, am rather glad there's no one to swing these swords at, right now.”
Astrael nodded. True enough. Callir doesn't seem to be in conflict with anyone at the moment, but how long will that last? Peaceful times were bound to crumble whenever heroes made their appearance... And he was certain that once trouble occurred, these fine weapons would stay here, with their owner.
“Oh, right.” Leon went to search through a rack as if he had suddenly remembered something. He then turned around and approached Astrael, holding a crossbow in his hands. “There you go. We have others, but this is the most basic one.”
He placed it on a small wooden table, probably expecting this seemingly prodigal child in front of him to inspect the weapon. Leon had the smuggest of expressions, as if he had guessed that having a real crossbow around would greatly help the development of this new project.
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“Can I?” Astrael asked, and Leon nodded. He took the crossbow in his own small hands and studied it more carefully, since back in the workshop he had not been allowed to touch. It's indeed heavy, he observed, frowning. I should aim for lighter materials and a smaller size, as expected.
“This strange crossbow of yours...” Leon said out of the blue. “You are confident it would be usable by a child, or a woman?”
Astrael needed not wonder why he asked that. “It should be, it's a gift for Rina, after all.”
“As you said,” he nodded. “Then I'll help you. Money, craftsmen, tools, whatever you need, I'll get it for you.”
Leon's ulterior motive – other than gaining Rina's favour – was plain as day, but Astrael kept his satisfaction for himself, and instead tried to confirm something else. “How did you know I wanted to build that, by the way?”
Leon had come to him without bothering to disclose his source, after all. “Oh...” He paused, perhaps realizing that suddenly showing up and talking about Astrael's project like he did was somewhat rude. Not that the chessmaster himself cared for politeness. “The young mistress told me about it. Apologies for intruding in your affairs like that.”
So it was Rina. Then, was I wrong about sister Julia? He looked down to the crossbow to hide his slight frown. Either that, or he's lying. No, it could be that the priestess is simply wise enough not to fall in such an easy trap...
He would have to be more careful around her, then.
They spent the afternoon talking about the project, looking at other weapons displayed in the armoury, and wandering around the estate, and soon the evening came. The vast number of stuffed animals and trophies all around the manor was enough to let Astrael know that his hunch was right. The Feanir family had a taste for hunting, and all these stags, boars and smaller games had paid the price. Astrael was shown the library and its expensive compilation of works, as well as a collection of oil paintings, mostly portraits of the Feanir family and their ancestors, he guessed. They stopped in front of a portrait depicting a middle-aged man who was the spitting image of Leon, but a couple of decades older and without the charming smile.
“My lord father, Laurentias” came Leon's unnecessary explanation. To their right were displayed a bunch of other portraits, amongst which was painted a child who could have been a younger Leon. But they walked to the left, and the knight began to speak about his ancestors and the history of the Feanir house.
“Great-grandfather here, in his time, was betrothed to the second princess of Callir.” he said while pointing to the picture of a handsome young man whom Astrael could very well imagine as someone a princess would fall for. “His sons, and the sons of his sons, were meant to become royalty.”
Were? For a second, Astrael hesitated to ask. “Don't you and your father have royal blood, then?”
The knight gave a melancholic smile. “The wedding... never took place. Anyway, father would have been executed when the monarchy fell, had he been a descendant from that princess.”
From the way Leon spoke, it did not sound like he saw this wedding as a catastrophe that had been avoided. Would he have liked to be a prince? Phiramel had advised Astrael not to joke or allude to the monarchy if possible, and so this was probably a question that should not be asked. They walked some more and eventually they entered another room where the portraits made way for landscapes and historical paintings.
Representations of the city of Callir, of battles taking place in forests and plains, of ships sailing on the Middle Sea, of the great wonders of nature. There was one large painting of Viera's Womb, the colossal mountain south of the city-states, with its oddly shaped peak, and an imaginary depiction of the lost temple of Viera at its foot, on the shore, said to have crumbled under water eons ago.
Leon probably hoped to amaze the child, so Astrael did the correct thing and feigned amazement. Wouldn't do to say that he had already seen more gorgeous paintings than these ones, but he reckoned the Callirian painters had skills worth boasting about. They also painted the temple's frescos, and that wasn't a small thing.
Eventually, a servant informed them that supper would soon be ready, and so they made their way to the dining hall.
“Mother is unwell, so she'll probably not be there,” Leon said, his hand on the door handle. “There's someone else I want you to meet, though.”
Astrael already knew who he was talking about. The knight opened the door and they stepped in the hall. The room was lit with candlesticks even though the sun wasn't set yet, and only two people were seating at the table. At its end, a man whose face felt familiar. He wasn't as good looking as he was in his portrait, but there was no doubt the man was Laurentias Feanir, and as if to confirm it, Leon introduced the man as such.
The other one was a young man, or rather a boy a few years older than Astrael – he immediately understood that the lad was Timenon, Leon's younger brother. Had Astrael not been aware of his illness, he would have found it surprising to say the least, seeing how the brothers did not resemble each other at all. Compared to Leon's charisma and radiance, Timenon had sickly features and there was a certain frailness to him.
“Forgive my attire, my lord,” Astrael said after Leon explained to his father that their guest was Rina's brother.
“It's fine,” the man reassured him despite using a tone that could chill one's bones. “I hope you and your holy sister are enjoying the city of Callir?”
Holy... sister? He repeated in his mind. Ah, right. She will be addressed as her holiness once she goes through the consecration.
“Yes, it is a most exciting place,” he simply replied, not wanting to sound ineptly snobbish as they couldn't know he had visited far more imposing cities in the past.
Everyone exchanged a few more courtesies and greetings, while the food was served – vegetables and deer. “How do you like the food?” the lord asked once Astrael had taken a few bites. The meat was spicy, while onions, garlic, and various colourful vegetables were assembled in a fancy fashion, as expected from the nobility.
“Delightful. But I cannot begin to fathom what spices were used.”
Leon mentioned these were Vieran spices, which used to be a rare commodity in Callir. A slave brought some of that perfumed water Astrael saw earlier, but only Leon dipped his hands in it. It didn't look like it was a custom, perhaps a quirk then?
“We have to thank the Danalion house for their prosperous trade with the city-states,” Timenon explained.
Leon scoffed and rubbed his perfumed fingers under his nose. “Elric Danalion and his foreign friends... He'll soon make a Vieran out of every single one of us, if this goes on.” The man seemed bothered by the strong scent of the food, after all. Astrael had to admit that such a mannerism would match the knight's image. It smelled faintly of rose and lovage, but it wasn't nearly enough to overcome the odour of garlic and spices.
“What are you bitter for?” the brother retorted. “Callir may have lots of crops, enough to live in isolation, but it's not a reason to spit on prosperity. Ask the people what they think about it.”
“Oh, I know what they think, brother. Do you know what they think? That lord Danalion and his allies are the greatest saviours and benefactors of Callir – as if Therenus wasn't popular enough ever since he led the rebellion forty years ago. That's why I don't get what you're so happy about. They are buying their popularity with exotic spices, clothes and whatever gifts they can get their hands on. Don't you realize that? That's the sort of things you'll have to watch out for when you inherit the house.”
While the debate kept on for a short moment, Astrael had stopped his thoughts on something. As a bloodsguard, Leon could neither succeed his father nor marry. Timenon, who still looks fairly influenceable to me, is the next head of the Feanir house... Might as well see him as Phiramel's puppet, or his brother's, unless I manage to befriend him.
Their father eventually commanded silence, perhaps finding it stupid to talk of politics in front of an untrustworthy outsider, or else thinking it would be rude to let Astrael out of the conversation. The concerned party would have preferred to do without the lord's intervention, for now all eyes were fixed on him, waiting for him to say something, preferably intelligent.
Having absolutely no knowledge of Vieran spices and wanting to keep secret his interest for politics, his eyes wandered in the room, searching for an idea, until they fell on the meat in his plate. Right, deer. Let's get things moving a bit. “Do you hunt, lord Feanir?” Astrael dared to ask.
“I do,” the lord spoke in his cold voice, unimpressed by the boy's choice of subject. “This stag was caught last week, as a matter of fact.”
“Nowadays, father doesn't hunt as much as he lets his lackeys do the hunting,” Leon mocked, and surprisingly, his father let out a small chuckle.
“I've lost my touch, what can I say.” He waved his hand and a servant brought him more wine. “But trust me, you don't want me to tell you about all the games I caught back in my youth.”
“I'd be all ears,” Astrael said with a smirk. He wasn't above flattery when he needed to gain someone's favour.
Leon glanced at his brother and showed an embarrassed smile. “Err, I don't know if that's-”
“I don't mind,” Timenon interrupted as he shook his head. “If our guest wishes to hear father's stories, let him hear it.”
“...Is there a problem?” Astrael asked, though perfectly aware of the delicate matter they were all hesitating to talk about. Timenon couldn't hunt. With these thin arms of his, and his weak constitution, there was no way he could span a crossbow all by himself, or even be able to draw a bow for too long, never mind thrusting a spear through a boar's heart... Yes, Timenon could come along, surely, but he would only be able to watch. He wasn't even sure the boy could ride properly.
Then how would Timenon feel, he who couldn't take part in the hunt, yet lived in a family who loved it, and belonged to a class who took pride in it? Needless to say, when the son who was supposed to inherit the house was a cripple, efforts would be put into keeping this fact a secret. Astrael wasn't expecting an explanation about this awkward situation, nor would he ask for one, especially not when he already knew everything he needed to know.
He gave a long stare at Leon, trying to push him into acting. Astrael couldn't very well address Timenon's illness and his own crossbow project when he wasn't supposed to understand what it was all about. Only Leon could – and here was the perfect opportunity for him to do so.
Come on then. We both know you don't want to speak about your brother's handicap. Not yet, anyway.
Eventually, Leon must have decided now was as good a time as any to tackle the issue. Perhaps he would have preferred to have confirmation that Astrael's diagrams would work out, perhaps he would have liked to reveal the surprise in other circumstances. But the bitter expression on his brother's face must have convinced him.
“Timenon,” he said, putting down the cutlery on the table. “I may have a gift for you. Astrael here has imagined a very interesting device. How would you like to go hunting with the family?”