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Lord Storm Nattas
The Last Council
Part II
-All he needs is time-
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[https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3CBC1TvU6qgX6OjlozjaivPLqn8Ne8e0V_LAaGp3UpeeTYEzQsqgyYFy0bo25GUDWxR9bP3H8AV67xjZabKaZ8MDd5p8W3Fwzdt2WGgakJ53cJbcP2PBMA9WZlKV3XGszb-nxOquP7lAIBvTI_YEJeDMRZfQcjzbDU0Wg1MaAVpcyjYFn6_p3pARs/s2692/The%20Last%20Council.jpg]
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Lord Doris cleared his throat unsure, while the king was rapping his fingers at the edge of the massive table impatiently. There was a sense of bewilderment inside the room and a great deal of worry. Even fear. Lord Storm Nattas, –as merchants say to offer demonstration- was about to throw up and since I’ve eaten sparingly all day but have drunk aplenty, the mess would be rather shocking and extensive.
Swallow that vomit son, Storm urged himself, sweat rivulets running down his face and soaked armpits. A good amount reaching into his undergarments.
“Yes cousin?” Alistair probed his treasurer, a tad casually for the occasion. One would have been mistaken the King had inquired about what color to paint his renovated veranda.
“Could the woman be mistaken?” His cousin asked hopefully. “What trust can we really put on her words?”
“Canutia stayed in Kas because Lucius feared communications would be impossible after that point,” the king explained patiently. “He needed an anchor somewhere, since apparently things weren’t going well.”
“Why not leave Roderick for Uher’s sake?” Lord Doris Alden wondered aloud, very frustrated.
That old stubborn bastard would have never left Lucius to continue on his own, Storm thought, Lord Holt voicing the same reason with a bit more finesse than Lord Nattas.
“Roderick would have stayed with Sir Lucius until he breathed his last,” the old Lord said and the King nodded agreeing.
This was a one way ticket for the old man.
“So that means Sir Lucius is waging war on Kaltha?” Lord Sula asked returning to the most pressing matter. “On his own?”
“Apparently the North is helping him,” Lord Brakis said. Storm didn’t expect him to say anything and the large both in presence and lard Admiral caught him by surprise. That and his deep baritone voice. Give him his own fucking band. The man should have been a bard, Storm decided. Or a tavern keeper.
“Attacking the High King’s lords… my king this is a grave mistake,” Lord Doris said. “I can’t fathom why Sir Lucius would do that? This is madness.”
King Alistair frowned and pushed his chair back from the table. He stood up, deep lines on his face contracting and walked towards the map of Jelin again. More detailed on the Lorian side of it than the Issir and even less so higher up in the North. Where Lucius was. He eyed the colored worked leather for a long moment, some of the Lords glancing at each other but keeping their opinions close to their chests.
Storm could guess some of it, but not all. This wasn’t a situation he’d faced before. There was no answer for Lord Doris question that was more important in Lord Nattas mind, than the one offered to a different query.
What now?
“I told Lucius to bring the North to us. Bind the Jarl to Regia. It was a tall order,” the King paused and cleared his throat. A way to keep him out of harm’s way, Storm thought remembering the King’s words from an earlier meeting. “My son was pushed into a corner, it is obvious.”
“My King,” Lord Holt said. “This all but gives credence to Antoon’s words, vindicates the Crulls—”
King Alistair whipped his head around and glared at his old Shield.
“It does not Hunter, you are mistaken,” he hissed.
“May I speak frankly cousin?” Lord Doris asked.
“I was hoping you were frank afore,” Alistair admonished him. Lord Doris turned a sickly pale and grimaced. “Speak Doris, don’t turn all sensitive on me!” The King blasted him.
“Sir Lucius attacked the Lords of Kaltha. This puts us in the place of the villain with a Lords Conference in two months’ time.”
“Have you finished?” The King asked him.
“I haven’t,” Lord Doris said steadily. “Even if he was justified somehow, who is going to see it thus? It looks as if we have sided with the Jarl for the love of Uher!”
“Does King Davenport know of this?” Lord Sula asked and the King stopped him raising his palm, fingers loose before clenching into a fist.
“I will address this later, Sula,” he told the frowning Lord of Demames and turned to his cousin. “Lord Doris you and Lord Holt are both mistaken,” the King explained. “It is surprising since you know Lucius since he was a boy,” he sighed, his disappointment evident. “Would my son attack anyone unprovoked or unjustly?”
Lord Doris pressed his lips into a thin line and Lord Holt frowned. Lord Sula just breathed deeply and said nothing. Lord Brakis was staring at his goblet as if he’d found a kraken’s tooth in it.
Or a lizard.
“I need an honest answer gentlemen,” the King grunted, his blood boiling.
“Sir Lucius is a very honorable man,” Lord Holt said bravely.
“No one is saying he isn’t,” Lord Doris started. “But—”
“But what?” The King blasted him.
“My King without any intent on an insult,” Lord Sula started. “What Lord Doris is trying to say and perhaps Lord Holt, is that the young man is rumored to have a bad temper, when insulted.”
Nah, Storm thought. That’s not true.
And the same is rumored about you.
King Alistair closed his eyes and breathed out slowly.
“Swallowing his pride to let his brother win the Princess of Kaltha seem like the actions of a vain man to you Lord Sula?”
“No sire, it does not.”
“How about the elephant in the room?” The King asked them, but for Storm that is who knew already. He hang his head and stared at his hands. So much blood, he thought the memory haunting, but not as horrifying as it had appeared then. Not since he’d witnessed two children getting skewered in front of his eyes. Yet here you are today, calling their murderer a daughter. Oh, ye ever practical Lord Nattas, always willing to cut the sentiment aside, look to the bigger picture or opportunity. Who are the bad guys, if we’re standing in the right side of history?
“It was a Northern girl. Same as the Sovya woman,” Lord Doris said finally and Storm closed his eyes to keep the memories from spilling out.
“A Northern cunt!” King Alistair snarled, snapping him out of his reverie. “That was fucking her own kin and gotten herself pregnant!” He stopped breathing heavily and glared at the Lords looking uncomfortable at each other. The King rarely used hoarse language in public. “That bastard tried to cut him down, get himself another man’s woman and Lucius killed him aye,” he eyed them all. “I would have done the same in his place. Worse even,” he smacked his lips and glared at Nattas. “Macia took her revenge on him the only way she could, turned a dagger on her belly, cut through her own flesh and the baby until she couldn’t. Gods curse her soul to the Five Hells, never to see the light again.”
Abrakas you need to offer me something here, Storm thought his mouth dry and sat back on his chair, the shocked silence inside the council suffocating.
The King broke it a moment later.
“Lucius got cornered by the Issirs,” he rustled. “He had a girl with him, the Jarl’s daughter. The Crulls killed her before the Battle of the Bridges is the rumor. My son would never have given a woman under his protection away to get slaughtered. So in my opinion, they tried to get him out of the way, be it with trickery or force. Lucius being what he is, a much better man than everyone else in here including myself, is trying to right wrongs here. Done unto to him or anyone else. He is doing that, while trying to win the North for Regia.”
“Even if that’s true his actions will bring us against the High King,” Lord Holt cautioned the King.
“Antoon has no room to maneuver Holt,” Alistair told him tiredly. “He’s just realized that in order to win against the Khan he must return to Eplas, whilst the Khan can stay put and have Raoz for himself.”
“What about Scaldingport?” Lord Sula asked.
“It has built a port in the middle of nowhere, Antoon doesn’t control,” he eyed them in turn. “Scaldingport is on Regia’s side.”
“He could march against us,” Lord Doris said, on the verge of collapsing.
Alistair nodded. “Another front. Ah, the north is a mess as well,” he paused emphatically. “Maybe he’ll reconsider his grievances, decide they are not worth it.”
“We need to find a way to contact Lucius,” Lord Brakis said.
“We can’t,” the King elucidated. “No birds fly there and Canutia is doing all she can, Lord Holt knows more about it.”
“The Issirs will learn about Lucius before us,” Lord Holt agreed.
“We can learn what they know,” Storm informed them.
“Lord Nattas, you shall remain afterwards,” King Alistair said instead of inquiring more about it.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
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The Council lasted until the early night hours. Storm stayed for all of it. Heard the Lords opinions, filed away those that were already looking to protect themselves while agreeing with the King’s plans. Listened to the King explain what he believed Lesia’s concerns were and assured them that Lucius will never fight against his mother’s kin. Lord Nattas being ever cynical knew deep down that Lucius would fight against anyone if he had to and find a way to win or die in the attempt.
The sword would guide him and his sense of fairness, in a world brimming with injustice.
King Alistair looked worn out, when the Council finished and the Lords of Regia departed for their quarters. He ushered him nearer to the old throne, but didn’t sit on it. He removed the gold crown of Regia, five tigers dancing around its rim and placed it on a table used by the scribes and stared for long at the distant map of the Kingdom on the wall across from them. The map looking smaller now from the distance, despite covering the whole wall almost.
“Lucius will win the war,” King Alistair said some time later and Storm moved on his seat, body hurting from lack of sleep and sustenance. “He wouldn’t have started this, if he couldn’t finish it. We must trust his reasoning Nattas.”
“Of course sire,” Storm said and stared at his goblet.
“They didn’t leave him any other choice. He’ll win the war and bring us the North. Do what I couldn’t, nor my father afore me.”
“What about the Conference my King?”
“You don’t understand Nattas,” the King said and turned to look at him. “There’s no other road for Regia. This is a critical point in history. We leave this mess into lesser hands and we’ll get swallowed by friends and foes. Everyone will look to secure their own agendas, the Kingdom be damned. Lucius will never allow this to happen. He’ll bring the cart back on the road, built a road if one isn’t there. He’ll find the best solution, pick the right man or woman for the job.”
“There will be people that will disagree King Alistair. I fear the realm might stand against him.”
“The realm are but people. None better than him. Lucius will beat them all, one after the other. He’ll succeed unless he’s betrayed by those he trusts. Mark my words Lord Nattas. Even if that happens, the people he will leave behind shall bring his vision to pass. All he needs is time. Time to get back home. With enough time he’ll save Regia. He’ll save you all.”
“What about you my King?” Storm asked.
King Alistair breathed once and stared at the map again.
“I must buy him that time. As much as I can. Prevent those that want him gone, from succeeding.”
“Who wants that sire?”
The King sighed and reached for his goblet.
“No one wants a just man to assume the throne,” Alistair said gravely. “They fear him. They’d rather put a weakling on it, a crook, an utter fool, even a monster.”
“There is maybe a way to alleviate the pressure, my King,” Storm offered keeping his voice low.
“What way?”
“If Antoon is the problem, then perhaps…” Storm stopped and looked at the King’s eyes.
“Nattas did you hear what I said?”
“Aye, sire I did.”
“Antoon is younger than me, not much older than Lucius. You assume he’s the problem.”
Storm wasn’t thinking about waiting for nature to take its course.
“It looks like it at this point,” he said simply.
“Antoon set him up in Fetya? Ordered the Jarl’s daughter killed? Ordered my Silvie murdered? Wait, he couldn’t. He lost an heir there himself. Your thread is loose at this point Nattas. Perhaps you’ll pick another culprit next. The Magister is dead. Mayhap it’s Kelholt? How about the Est Ravn?” The King paused and washed his mouth with some wine. “Help Lucius get on this throne Nattas. Let him decide on the right course of action.”
What if I fucking can’t ye son of bitch?
What’s this bullshit impossible tasks ye throw at me?
Abrakas you mouldy cunt, I’m waiting for a darn helping hand here!
“Of course my King,” he said instead.
“Remember it’s better to live to fight another day,” King Alistair told him in parting. “You are useless to Regia dead, Lord Nattas.”
Lord Nattas was useless dead to poor Storm too, but he refrained from telling the tired King that.
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Secundus was half asleep, when Nattas got out in the long corridor leading to the throne room. The hour almost at midnight.
“I gather this didn’t go well?” The hired blade asked.
“If I don’t eat, I might not make it home alive,” Storm replied.
“You have a meeting scheduled in the Gardens,” Secundus countered.
Uh?
“What meeting? Everyone is asleep, even the King gave up. Why, I wager you all of Alden is out by this point,” Storm protested, before catching himself and lowering his voice. The palace guard across the hall appeared half-asleep as well, but you never know with these ruffians.
Secundus searched into his mail shirt and found a small scroll.
Storm took it and unfurled it looking about the half-dark corridor, the candles giving out more fumes than light by now. He squinted his eyes to read the tiny script.
“Eh, what does this mean?”
“What does it say?”
Storm frowned.
“Squid’s only friend?”
Secundus crooked his mouth and then shrugged his shoulders.
“I’ve no idea,” he finally said with a yawn, but by then Storm knew.
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The Queen’s idea of keeping a low profile was pedantic. The white cape negating the darker colored something she had underneath.
“My lady this is extremely dangerous,” Storm whispered, looking about the empty garden. Miranda reached and grabbed his hand.
“My brother asked Lord De Weer to send Jeremy back,” she whispered.
Storm sighed.
“Does the King know?”
“I didn’t ask. We haven’t talked much since the wedding.”
That was two months back.
“You talked a bit though, your grace?”
Miranda frowned. “Didn’t you hear what I said? Jeremy is fine where he is.”
“The Scaldingport girl seems nice,” Storm agreed, then seeing her expression he added. “Your grace, the King is leaving for Riverdor. Having Jeremy here is prudent.”
“Why?” Miranda asked him.
“Your brother is being careful.”
Was he though?
Hmm?
He stared at her hand laced on his. “I will look into this.”
“No. I want you to stop it,” she argued.
“Your grace… I can’t. The message has already left. Difficult to catch a bird on foot or even on a horse once it takes to the air.”
He expected a smile, but all Storm got was a troubled frown.
Surprisingly stimulating.
“He thinks Antoon might declare war,” Miranda said sounding worried.
“Why?”
“Lucius campaign in the North.”
“There’s no campaign confirmed,” Storm insisted. “Who told him that?”
“Lord Ruud.”
“They talk?” Storm asked her narrowing his eyes.
“I talk with Jeremy almost every other day,” Miranda explained. “I’m worried.”
About what? The worst night was the first, but after she guided the young man’s cock true everything went smoothly. A great success, Ruud himself had declared and Storm had agreed, despite not being personally present for the coupling.
“I’m sure Jeremy is doing fine. He’s visiting his lands, hunts in the forest and enjoys the… warmth of his new wife. No need to exhaust the birds your grace. People might need them for something more urgent.”
“What people?” Miranda asked standing back. “What can be more urgent?”
“Eh, that war your brother has mentioned?”
“Can’t Lucius apologize, or something? We could send a gift,” she countered.
“People have probably died, I doubt a couple of horses and a letter would suffice your grace.”
Miranda narrowed her eyes.
“Are you mocking me Nattas?”
There goes the lord part, lost down the fucking drain.
“Your grace I was merely trying to instill some humor into the end of a very taxing day.”
“I haven’t done a thing all day!”
Now that was loud, Nattas thought.
“Let me look into this,” he promised her and looked about them nervously.
“I haven’t relieved you Storm,” Miranda told him.
While that was better, Storm really feared for the guards relieving him of his head now.
“We can’t be seen your grace,” he croaked.
“You fool, everyone here works for me,” Miranda countered.
“Your grace, everyone here fears the King,” Storm argued.
More than they fear you.
“You can go then Lord Nattas,” the Queen told him and pulled a step back.
Ah, Abrakas this isn’t the help I asked for and this isn’t exactly a good end to the evening.
You fat stupid squid!
“Apologies, your grace,” he told her with a smart bow of the head. “I shall strive to perform better.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” Miranda had told him with a small smirk.
> On the way back to his house, Storm begrudgingly admitted that the latter part of their conversation had ventured into murkier territory. The expression considering what happened next a huge understatement.
A man got out of his house the moment he arrived. A bit taller than Nattas, wiry but on the thin side. A long narrow face with a somewhat deltoid jaw, eyes hidden under a black hood. The long cape he wore making him appear ghoulish.
“Have a good night, Lord Nattas,” the man said. His accent difficult to determine. A bit of Lorian, some Cofol, a certain touch of Issir in his Common.
“Do I know you?” Storm asked him and heard Secundus shifting on his feet alarmed.
“Ah, no need for that,” the stranger said with the thinnest of smiles. “I’m a friend. The name is Larn.”
“Never seen you before in my life,” Storm told him, not amused.
Was this one of Maja’s friends? He sure looked the part.
“A sage thing that you didn’t, Lord Nattas. As I said, I hope you have a restful night.”
Storm opened his mouth to reply, but the man swiftly turned his back and walked away. One moment he was there across the streets amidst the shadows and the next he was gone.
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