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Storm Nattas
A lot of moving parts
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“He managed to secure most of the landowners support somehow.” Sudi reported.
Ursus got to them.
Storm Nattas was seated on the marble bench inside the garden and stared at the rooftops of the artisan buildings over his garden’s south wall. The White District spreading out over the opposite north corner, with its taller villas and much nicer atmosphere.
Fucking rich noble cunts, leaving no room for the good ladder-climbing folk that are trying to get a foot in.
Cheaply that is.
“But he dropped out of sight,” Sudi continued with a brief glance at Moore and Grin camping on the wet lawn not that far from the loggia but further inside the flower garden. They showed little Silvio how to re-tie his muddy sandals. “Which elevated our Reganus of Moon’s Haven as a favorite given he has your support.”
“What if the man resurfaces?” Storm asked absentmindedly, his attention on Silvio that had trouble getting the simple job done. The bouts of stupidity in the boy troubling.
“He’s just too deep to make it,” Sudi replied ambiguously.
Novesium’s ambitious new Mayor candidate is sleeping with the fishes was the loyal lackey’s meaning.
“Reganus is going to win the race and while he’s an idiot, he is also controllable.” Sudi added and turned upon hearing Moore opening the villa’s garden loggia door to come outside. The Lesia reformed thug carrying a square wine box made out of white plank. Moore brought it to their table, the morning’s downpour making everything soggy inside Natta’s villa, but the chill in the air was manageable. Cartagen’s winters were always mild though not as warm as those of Regia’s south coast.
“Chief. The ship arrived in Cartaport,” Moore reported and Storm grimaced unsure. He was still thinking of the Novesium conundrum.
“Did the convoy make it?” Sudi asked him.
“Two ships came back. One had to stop at Scaldingport for repairs. We lost a sloop to weather or pirates.”
Welp, there goes a good pile of coin.
“Parkor has the diaries?” Sudi asked.
“He does. But he’s still going through the captain’s ledger.” Moore opened the lid of the box and started getting bottles out.
“Leave that for a moment,” Nattas intervened. “We need to get to Ursus Sudi. Else his son will control events from afar. He might put another man forth.”
“The King will deal with Ursus boss,” Sudi assured him. “He ain’t seeing the light of day again.”
“Here’s the thing though, I’m not as comfortable with this development,” Nattas argued. “Because there’s always a chance Lucius might pardon him.”
“You think he would?”
“He just congratulated Lord Brakis,” Nattas hissed. “I stood there in shock listening to this sentimental bullshit. You want to speak of loss? How about me losing a seat in the Council? Or getting tossed in jail? Exiled, not to mention all the attempts on my life!”
“You had to step down chief,” Sudi reminded him and used one of the Baron’s old canes to tap at the half-empty box. “What else is there inside?”
“Things they wanted sent to Asturia,” Moore replied and Nattas grimaced a little frustrated.
“Who is they?” He snapped.
“Hardir’s people,” Moore explained. “Half the cargo brought back was theirs. But we took a peek inside.” He added and gave Storm two different colored, smooth rocks. The surface almost glassy. One milky and the other a dark orange.
Nattas signed for him to deposit them on the table in front of him. “What am I looking at?”
“The white one makes light, if touched in the dark,” Moore replied as if he knew what he was talking about.
“Like a slap or a tit rub?” Nattas chanced. “How much touching are we talking about?”
“I haven’t tested it chief.”
“Yet you are certain they haven’t bamboozled you? Looks small enough to insert in yer arse. I’ve seen some priestesses plugged this way. They even had jewels attached that sparkled if you got them arse-cheeks spread apart enough. All am saying, might this be something kinkier in nature?”
Sudi cracked a smile but then stared at Moore for an answer.
“The captain saw them work in Mussel. They turn night to day,” Moore insisted. “Don’t know nothing about no kinky stuff chief.”
“Magic,” Storm retorted mockingly. “These were an awful lot of negatives there Moore. I now stand wary of you son. Is there something you want to share?”
“I think it’s more a chemical matter,” Sudi intervened. “They need to be left outside during the day to properly work in the night.”
“Thus we descend into the shady alleyways of Alchemy and the mystic arts,” Storm mused sarcastically and shook his head afore sobering up. “Put it to the test.”
“Yes chief. You want to try it now?”
Gods forbid! It might explode in our faces!
“Didn’t you say it doesn’t work in the daylight?”
Moore puffed his cheeks out undecided. “I did.” He finally said forlornly.
Storm sighed. “What does the other do?”
“It’s a firestone,” Moore replied recovering somewhat. “A gift from the Monarch to the Adventurers Guild.”
“As in Framtond’s fabled firestones?”
Moore stared at him blankly.
Seriously?
“He’s… never mind. Can we get more of them?” Storm asked.
“They are not in the market.”
Ouch.
“Which is how much?”
“We might need to do another favor for the Monarch.”
“Alright. I see preliminary talks have begun.” Nattas said acerbically. “What does he want?”
“Access to Lesia’s wine market.” Sudi deadpanned. “He wants us to break the embargo for him. Sneak the product inside the cities and deliver it to venues.”
“Welp, I stand mildly bewildered he didn’t outright ask to bed my daughter on top of that,” Storm sneered. “Or maybe he did and you foolishly told him she’s married? Because I’m willing to consider it for a brave discount.”
“We didn’t really… the captain didn’t speak with the Monarch.”
Of course he didn’t.
I bet he runs a tight ship.
“What’s the tithe right now?” Storm asked stooping forward, both hands resting on the cane he’d between his legs.
“Equal to the price of a bottle, on top.” Sudi replied. “Else Flauegran just stops deliveries. Lucius has ordered the merchant unions to respect Lesia’s rights in the wine market.”
“But it’s the threat that counts more.” Storm expounded. “You want to have all the Flauegran good labels in your lofty venue.”
“Ayup,” Sudi said and offered him a cup.
“I have tasted it already. That Aranel. Pretty good.”
“Taste them one after the other.” Sudi insisted and Nattas did. “For comparison.”
He blinked and then reached for his glass of blue-label Flauegran. The Baron worked the wine in his mouth for a moment and then swallowed.
“Um. This one is more similar I think.”
“Spring wine. You favor summer’s vintages but Aranel is much closer to Spring’s grapes which Flauegran is famous for.”
“The same recipe. Nourished in different ground which is logical given the distance involved.” Nattas decided a little surprised. “Do we have any of Goras’ version of summer wine?”
“It’s reserved for the Monarch,” Sudi explained with a smirk. “But variations of it are sold in Goras. I think both recipes are the same. The Monarch has gotten his hand inside the Wine Barons cookie-jar. They call it ‘Taria ‘O Mir’ by the way.”
“Which means?” Storm asked bringing the metal goblet near his nose to sniff at the flowery aroma.
“The Queen of gems.”
The Zilan are punching the Barons naming schemes repeatedly in the face for sure, he thought. Flauegran wine moguls named their different wines based on the color of the labels glued on the bottles.
Blue.
Red.
White.
Storm stared at the light reddish wine dancing inside the bronze interior of the goblet and crooked his mouth in deep contemplation.
“What do our friends in Faro report of the Baron’s plans?” Nattas asked casually placing the goblet on the table and taking the milky stone in his hand.
“Baron Riveras met with Simon Mclean last month,” Sudi said and poured himself a large mug of Goras’ wine using one of the cheaper ceramic mugs with a side-handle intended for water or beer. Seeing Storm eyeing him curious for not going for the open Flauegran bottle, Sudi shrugged his shoulders and sipped at the wine carefully as if it was medicine. “I like it better. Leaves no burning in the stomach.”
“For fuck’s sake. The Zilan are also using their dirty feet to crush the grapes Sudi,” Storm hissed. “There’s no fucking magic involved in the blasted wine!”
Sudi used a thumb to show Nattas his scarred face. “This needs all the help it can get chief,” he insisted and Nattas rolled his eyes to the white in exasperation.
“Why meet with Simon and not Manuela?” Nattas growled but his face relaxed hearing Silvio’s happy chuckle. He turned his head and saw that Sirio with Maja had arrived much to the boy’s delight. Miranda was staying in the palace and inviting her for a visit and a quick roll in the hay was out of the question obviously.
But still very annoying.
“Manuela has left Atetalerso. So Simon took over,” Sudi replied.
“What do you think they are cooking?” Nattas queried watching the couple playing with his son.
“Four transports and four brigs plus that galleass,” Sudi expounded. “Are being loaded in Cediorum. The 333 mercenary company has arrived there also. At least two smaller companies.”
“How many is that?”
“Close to two thousand soldiers.”
Storm stood back with a grunt. “Has Armium issued any orders?”
“The 2nd Legion is building new barracks at Alesian Fort. Hasn’t moved in months. No orders were issued. This is a cleared by the Bank Operation.”
“Yet, Lady Manuela isn’t involved,” Storm mused. “Is she…?” He stooped near Sudi. “Any word of our friends?”
“They have probably arrived in Asturia by now,” Sudi replied with a glance at Maja that pushed Silvio’s curls behind his small slightly pointy ears, combing them with the watching Sirio Veturius’ ivory hair comb. The assassin paused sensing Sudi’s stare and turned her raven-colored head to return it tauntingly.
Nattas pursed his mouth, turned to his right himself in order to reach for the goblet and recoiled almost losing control of his cane seeing the Issir Griet sitting in the spare chair next to a rubbing at the firestone distracted Moore.
Abrakas cold tentacles grabs you by the fucking armpits!
“Fucking hells!” Nattas croaked with a strangled gasp and then snapped at the lackey angrily. “Put that shit down you blasted orangutan!”
“Can I have the white stone?” Griet asked syrupy.
“You can’t. But you can suck my cock under the table. Use only the lips.”
“Sure. But maybe I tell the Queen about it?” Griet taunted.
“Girl, if I start talking too you’ll find yourself wishing you’d fallen on this table instead. Cheeks spread and well-oiled to better receive hard cock up the arse,” Nattas retorted soberly. “Now get the fuck off my table.”
Griet got up with a scowl, thought about it some searching for the watching Maja and then gave a shrug with her shoulders.
Nattas watched her walking back inside his villa until Sudi interrupted him.
“They are going to strike chief.”
Uh?
Storm grimaced and glared his way. “Don’t be an idiot.”
“They are going in. Not much of an army in Goras.”
“According to whom? A couple of drunkards at the port?”
“Mussel is deserted almost.”
“Mussel is a fucking smuggling spot dabbling as a ruin!”
“Sinya Goras is half the size of Colle in local population.” Sudi insisted. “Taras is not a military outpost and most of the Zilan army is missing.”
“Are you sure? Are they on vacation or something? How about the wyvern?”
“You don’t believe…”
“I doubt there’s magic in the fucking wine,” Storm hissed in frustration. “Or the bloody stones! There is either a wyvern on the loose out there or there isn’t. That’s a big fucking risk to take! Not to mention fighting against Zilan.”
“They’ll call it a raid. The cities are too far apart. They’ll torch the port and destroy the vines by the time a proper response is raised. You know they’ve done it before. In Sovya, Eikenport. They’ll leave no witnesses.”
“What are you saying Sudi?” Nattas asked through his teeth.
“They are gonna test this Monarch. Lots of wild stories out there. Is this just a clever pirate that took control of the remnants of Wetull? If there is no power behind the tale then the Bank could take control of the ports, venture into the interior and Flauegran would secure its dominance over all markets for the next two hundred years.”
“Nobody knows what’s beyond Goras or the Reefs Sudi. What? Ruins? Broken swords or used old furniture? How about a couple of more Zilan cities. Hey, maybe the army is vacationing there! Then what?” Nattas grunted. “Why take the risk? What is the Bank really looking for?”
“They say that if you reach the Talons, then to your east you’ll find the Sinking Isles within days of travel.” Sudi explained. “Whomever controls those southernmost Wetull’s ports would then stand at striking distance from the Isles. Jewels for pebbles and gems under the rocks. A lake’s bottom made of diamonds. Even if there’s nothing left of any worth in Wetull, it’ll be worth it.”
Ah, the tales of faraway lands of fortune all the port harlots recite to customers because some drunkard sailor told them. A vicious cycle.
Then again…
Nattas looked at him in silence. “They want to penetrate the Khanate’s market. While also pushing the gem merchants out of Jelin’s cities, now that they are cut off from the Bank of Dinar’s funding and the Khan’s army. But you need the raw materials for that. Gems are not wood to grow near water. The Stonemaze Peaks have precious stones in their guts but they are disputed. Sovya, Regia, Lesia, not to mention the dwarves living there and were the first to arrive. Then there are the deserts of Diamant in the far south but those lands are controlled by the Davenports of Levacum. You can’t profit out of Kings or their kin for long because in the end they can just keep what they want without asking. Or paying.”
Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.
“You can though squash the immediate competition.” Sudi said with a smirk.
“That’s too ambitious for old Federico. He’s too practical. This is a younger mans’ gambit,” Nattas decided and smacked his lips.
“A port could secure a direct trade route to Eplas.” Sudi offered with a shrug. “Is that realistic enough for the old cunt? It will make the package better.”
“There’s no way the Cofols of the Peninsula would ever allow Mclean to interfere in their business. Even if they have broken with the Toka of Dinar. Neither would the latter. Of course the Toka are busy with the Khan’s stupid war at this point.” Storm sighed deeply and stood up pushing on his cane for leverage. “Everyone is looking at Kaltha now. But what else could have triggered a response from the Bank? Leave the Wine Barons out, they are the excuse.”
“Maybe the Cofols have their own plans hatched and this is a reaction?” Sudi offered with Nattas adding after a small thoughtful pause.
“The Sopat have access to Eplas already. Then again they do have to travel through the hostile Khanate’s lands now… hmm,” the Baron of Moon’s Haven said. “I have the strange suspicion Sudi that there might a way through the Reefs after all. Forget about the Sinking Isles, although it’s pretty exciting as an idea, nothing beats the value of a short and direct trade route.”
Especially if there is a stop in between that could offer ports and infrastructure for the merchant fleets. Of course the latter made the Wine Barons raid even more difficult to pull off. Ports and infrastructure isn’t what bandit leaders or pirate kings are famous for, but they are the mark of a developed and organized kingdom.
Of Zilan.
Ah. This won’t go well at all.
-
Afternoon
13th of Ultimus 194 NC
King’s Baths
Cartagen
Kingdom of Greater Regia
“Dear Salonius,” Nattas said hurrying up after the wealthy merchant. Which wasn’t an easy thing to do, legs and shoes still relatively soaked as Storm had gotten out of the pool haphazardly. The tiled corridor hugging the baths plenty wet as well.
Slippery as all fucks.
Claud Salonius turned around, his head a mess as he’d a towel on earlier and looked at the hobbling his way Storm. The tap of the cane followed by the shuffle of feet and people standing to the side to let the cripple through. Not out of respect but more not to catch whatever Nattas had as if it was contagious.
“Baron Nattas,” Salonius said and he had to work hard to appear even remotely polite. “I heard a voice but couldn’t recognize it.”
“I’ve spent time with the army and caught a bit of a northern accent,” Nattas retorted mockingly. “Now since I have the better ears between the two of us, I happened to hear the merchant’s guild will have a meeting. Has Mayor Messor given out the invites yet?”
“I’m afraid this was yesterday,” Salonius said in a sad tone, not looking sad at all. “The clerks weren’t’ aware you were in the city.”
“We’ve met at court a week ago. I was standing across from you and Messor.”
“Ah, my eyes are also pretty poor these days. It’s the winter and all,” Salonius replied and sighed looking at the exit. “I have a carriage waiting and one more meeting afore nightfall Baron.”
“I’ll walk with you outside. I’ve a carriage waiting as well,” Storm rustled through his teeth. “I can afford it thankfully.”
“Eh. It is surprising that you can,” Salonius replied and started walking slowly to allow Nattas to keep up with him. “I heard your crop yield was decent but the product wasn’t well-received?”
“It found audience in the cheaper venues,” Nattas hissed defending his wine. “There’s a market for it. Quite large actually.”
“I wouldn’t know it. Do you even make profit? What you have now two ships?” Salonius probed.
Fourteen. In two different companies.
“I’m doing well enough.”
“Why not bring your office to Cartagen or Cartaport?”
I pay no taxes in Turtle Isles. And the authorities ask no questions.
I’m the authorities.
“Looking for a place as a matter of fact.” Storm lied.
“Messor could help out a fellow member of the guild.”
Messor can go fuck himself in his stables. Plenty of girthy cock to be found there.
“You have… ehm, a warehouse in Asturia yes?” Nattas asked instead as they got outside of the baths gardens. The large boulevard heading west to east –from the Silos to Artisan Shops, also the border with the large city center.
“In the port, but I have also a large building near the south walls.”
“The Slums?”
Salonius pursed his mouth annoyed. “Well before that. Inside the walls. Why?”
“The Holts don’t really like Flauegran dominating the market over their local wines,” Nattas explained. “Don’t they have a special tithe imposed ‘in imported products’?”
“A known fact.” Salonius retorted impatiently. “But for the temple needing it for their liturgies, the Duke would have banned it in favor of his own.”
“What if the priestesses were convinced to endorse another vintage? Would the Duke be lenient on that?”
“Lenient as in not taxing it?” Salonius queried furrowing his brows.
“For a share of the profit,” Nattas replied.
“Baron your wine… I tasted it. Listen… it is still early days. Give it another ten years and it’ll be mature enough—”
“It’s not my wine. I may be able to bring a lot from Goras,” Nattas hissed and glared at two carriages that came to stop near them. The sky responding with a crackling roar, the wind picking up and rain droplets coming down on his head.
The starts of pneumonia creeping ever closer.
“There is no official agreement signed by the palace. The Duke can outright refuse to let you sell it,” Salonius pointed out. “Why Asturia?”
“People fall for trends. It’s a big fucking city. If Asturia’s venues start selling it then the returning tourists will want to see it here as well.”
“The King has endorsed the wine barons Nattas. A trade agreement with the Zilan is premature and you getting involved with them will be frowned upon.”
“It’s business Salonius. Aren’t you sick of selling goat cheese?”
“I control the garments market historically. And people respect tradition. The novelty of this alien brew will wear off,” Salonius cautioned him. “No one will shake hands with an unknown entity and risk relations with Lesia. Over what? Flauegran has cornered the market and they have the best product.”
“Historically.”
“One could go that far sure,” Salonius taunted.
“They don’t. Goras works the same recipes and has the better ground I believe.”
“You don’t know that… And same how? Did they steal them? You are not allowed to do it.”
“Maybe the Barons stole the darn recipes first?”
Salonius looked at him with pity. “That’s quite a reach and a shady scheme Baron. Semi-legitimate I might add. Reeks of desperation.” You miserable cuck. I’ll ram a steel phallus in your mouth until you run out of teeth. “I would watch out if I were you. A case here and there might be fine. The product sold under the counter. In small quantities. But more? Like getting ship-loads of the stuff across the border and into port? Nah. You’ll get yourself in trouble or mix up with the underworld to pull it off. And if you employ unsavory characters to help you, whatever little reputation you’ve procured all these years will be tossed in the gutter. Stay out of it.”
With that he climbed inside his carriage and closed the small door.
A scowling Nattas stood by the side of the road in deep contemplation, the chilly breeze on his nape. Until he realized the second carriage had stopped in front of him, the small door open.
The driver gestured with the long whip. A sign for him to get inside.
Nattas raised his head, rain droplets wetting his forehead. “I have my own vehicle parked across the street.”
“Baron,” a deep voice said from inside the carriage. “Hop inside afore you catch your death.”
Hop inside, the fat whale Duke Brakis had said. Climb up the slippery steps to reach the cabin, naught but a slip of the foot away from smashing your skull on the flagstone street and if you get spared of that sad ending then you get to squeeze yourself to reach the couch across from the Duke that had ¾ of the cabin occupied by himself.
“You are quite wet Baron.” Brakis noticed.
“It’s raining your grace.”
“The baths busy?”
“They were plenty wet as well,” Storm retorted keeping up with the polite charade. Then he mellowed up somewhat. “My condolences for your son. We haven’t talked during the ceremony. A brave young man.”
Duke Brakis gave a nod with his fleshy face, half-hidden in the carriage cabin’s darkness.
“You had him imprisoned.” He finally said in his baritone voice.
“Saved him first, then let him go.”
“For control of the Turtle Isles.”
“And opening the door for you to make nice with the King,” Storm reminded him, reciting part of Lucius’ words during the palace ceremony. “The children of Regia shall stay united and offer sacrifice when the land commands it. Rather touching I’d say.”
Brakis turned silent again, the sound of rain rapping at the carriage’s roof loud. Storm wiped his face with a sleeve and gathered the long tunic over his cold legs as the moment dragged.
What the fuck do you want?
“Theodor’s son is first in line for the Duchy,” Brakis finally said. “Elvira’s kid would have been a good choice but word is you had them killed during your raid in Novesium.”
Nattas sat straighter on the couch. The carriage hadn’t moved yet and there were guards outside despite the falling rain.
“Ursus is a bitter loser,” Storm said thinking the Duke wouldn’t risk something violent so publicly. “I never touched them.”
“Nine out of ten words you say are lies Nattas,” Brakis commented and pulled the small curtain aside to stare out of the window. The small door was still open but offered a worse view a nervous Storm guessed.
“Everybody lies. But in this… I’m not,” Nattas lied looking at the Duke of Illirium’s profile. Why do you linger in the capital? He wondered trying to fit together all the different fragments. Ever-moving little details and shifting seemingly unrelated parts. “A girl could rule,” Storm added since that was what the Duke’s household had in abundance.
“I love my wife,” Brakis said hoarsely. “But I need an heir else the Sextus-Brakis might rule Illirium.”
“Sir Vel is that close in line?”
“Sir Vel is a hero and we are blinded to color,” Stan Brakis explained.
“Eh, we are not really,” Storm teased and the Duke turned to stare at him soberly.
“You have a strange face Nattas. Long, weird,” he told him. Wow. You are a fat piece of lard Stan. Did I make a big thing out of it? “Hair too-black turning almost blue in the sun, when you were in your youth. Skin barely white and you’re from Lesia.”
“Historically,” Storm jested but he was being serious. “You are not that Lorian-looking yourself Admiral and by Abrakas, since we are talking genetics here, the Alden had plenty of dark-haired kings. It happens.”
“It’s in the facial structure and in the bones,” Brakis rustled expounding. “You try to beat it out getting cleaner blood in, but it remains in the brain they say. A madness.”
Storm nodded without saying anything.
“Sextus-Brakis have Ticu blood in them,” Brakis continued.
“Abrakas creatures,” Storm commented wryly. “Either cunning…”
“Or war-like. Illirium doesn’t need the latter.”
“Sometimes it works.”
“I want a different heir from my part of the family. More brains than brawn,” Brakis explained. “Brawn had Peter killed. But you… you are clever enough.”
Nattas stood back. “How old are the twins now?” He asked the Duke.
“You aren’t bedding my daughters Nattas.”
“I wasn’t… although, it’s part of the procedure,” Storm cleared his throat and stared at his fingers that were laced on the cane.
Ah.
“Maja is married Duke.”
“I want a kid not a wife. The girls will understand,” Brakis explained. “Name your price.”
“Thing is…” Nattas puffed out thinking whether Maja would do it. Then again… “I need a place to unload wine.”
“You’re too cheap to rent a warehouse?”
“It’s a bit more sensitive than that at this current political climate. This is wine hailing from Goras,” Storm expounded. “Blue feet crushed, all exotic and shite.”
“Ask something else,” Brakis rustled. “This is a dead end, whatever scheme you are running.”
Alright.
“How do you know?”
“You can have your smuggler fleet moored in Illirium, but no unloading in the docks. Shares in the Bronze Mines and you’ll get property and land in Rosebush,” Brakis dodged with a counter-offer. “But I’ll need to control Turtle Port in exchange. Need to keep the trade route open. I’ll get a son out of the deal also. If no son is produced the deal is off but I’ll compensate you for raising another bastard. That’ll be… your third?”
Nattas licked his lips thoughtfully.
“You want to… ehm. Is there a timeframe?” Storm asked, after pondering on the minutiae.
“I’ll see her tonight or the morrow.” Brakis replied stiffly. “Make it discreet Nattas.”
“Fuck your property in Rosebush,” Nattas countered and stood back. “I want Novesium.”
“You want a Duchy?” Brakis retorted and chuckled. “Who is going to support you? You’ve no claim. How about you marry into the Alden? That’s more likely. The Queen is dead Nattas. All that good-will expended. Just be grateful the worst hasn’t come out, but it might.” He added meaningfully.
Ah yes. The threat of the rogue bounty hunter. That’s twice you’ve reminded me of him. Either you really fancy Maja, you sad piece of lard or you’ve skin in the game.
“I can defend myself from Ursus lies,” Storm grunted.
“Don’t play innocent with me. Ursus isn’t your problem. Someone always gets away and it might give you a nasty surprise,” Brakis warned and Nattas laughed sarcastically tipping his head back.
“What does Laudus know?” Storm asked sobering up. “I’ve barely spoken to him once. Have you?”
The Duke returned his stare in silence. “Do the smart thing. You’ve barely any legitimate allies in the court and you know it. I don’t want the husband involved. See to deal with him.”
“The husband is a good ally in the court Duke,” Nattas retorted.
“I can always find another candidate,” Brakis finished and pushed back on the couch. “If you don’t answer by the midnight, this talk never happened.”
“I’ll see to inform you.”
Storm stood and turned to navigate the dangerous small ladder at the outer side of the carriage. The rain still pouring down heavy.
“Nattas,” Brakis was heard from inside the cabin as he’d reached the flagstone covered street. “Don’t count on the King to always give you the benefit of doubt. All men have a tipping point and sometimes the gods interfere to tip them scales.”
“Sage advice your grace,” Nattas said whilst standing in the rain, stooped on his cane. “In the spirit of cooperation and neighborly wish-exchange, I’ll return it to you.”
----------------------------------------
Grin stopped the carriage ten minutes later and looked at the soaked Storm Nattas standing by the side of the road.
“Chief? I passed by earlier and didn’t see you.” He yelled to be heard. “Thought you legged it when the rain started!”
“Yeah, I hobbled three kilometers on a foot to get the fucking cardio up,” the chilled Nattas rustled and slowly heaved himself inside the cabin. Sudi was waiting inside and tended an arm to help Storm find the couch across from him.
“I was inside Duke Brakis’ carriage,” a frustrated Nattas replied to the silent query. “He wants a male heir and fancies Maja a good candidate.”
“Any particular reason other than that he likes homicidal cunts?”
“She’s of fair enough complexion and thinks I’m too compromised to refuse him.”
“Or immoral?” Sudi guessed with a half-leer.
“That too.”
“Any underlying subtext to the conversation?” Sudi perceptively asked whilst Nattas stood back trying to get the soaked garbs off of him in the tight space.
“Um. The Laudus case. Plenty of subtle blackmail and innuendos.”
“Aha. Why do you think he cares? Laudus probably points a finger at Ursus.”
“I’ve no idea but there is something there.” Nattas glared at him as the vehicle started moving in the half-flooded streets of the capital. “Where is Maja?”
“The fuck I care? In the villa? You don’t want to go through with this boss,” Sudi cautioned him after a pause. “She’s crazy.”
Nattas rubbed his wet forehead with two fingers and grimaced. “I need to secure something now Sudi. Turn this wealth into something legitimate, more lasting. The wars will end at some point. Eventually there will be a resolution. Things might change and it could be for the worse for our business.”
“The Duke spooked you?”
“The Khan might win and Antonius gambit is a good enough excuse to drag Regia into another free-for-all. There’s a guy in Wetull nobody takes serious but he’s creeping ever closer. Gifts magic stones to adventurers and sells a fucking great wine. Great enough to make the Barons react like idiots. Did I mention there might be a wyvern chilling under a porch somewhere there? Is the Khan the worst Jelin could face I wonder? What if the stories are true?”
“Come on chief.”
“Zilan bend the knee to this Hardir,” Storm replied hoarsely. “You can’t drink their wine, sell their relics and recite their lore without acknowledging they are a real race of people. Creatures. Whatever. They are part of this realm. Well, those that survived their ordeal apparently find enough acclaim in this King beyond the Pale Mountains to install him on the vacant throne of the Empire. There was only one empire Sudi. Big proud motherfuckers for a reason. Now this rascal might be really that bloody convincing,” Nattas added with a deep frown. “Or he just might possess a real fucking wyvern.”
“Don’t poke the bear in the cage,” Sudi recited with a solemn nod. “Afore ye make sure the cage is locked.”
Yeah.
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“There,” Maja told the small boy and gave him the small leather cord back. The two edges tied with a nautical knot to create a bracelet. Silvio took it in his small hands and stared at the small stake Maja had nailed on one of the wooden poles of the logia. “Just lob it like I showed you.”
Silvio stood up and then looked at the target that was a good three meters away and two above his head. “Just take your time. Aim first.” Maja added supportingly, a smiling Sirio hugging her waist and Nattas paused at the internal door behind the couple to watch his son.
Silvio snorted once and then tossed the leather ‘ring’ without hesitation. It flew briefly in the air and found the peg squarely. It remained hanging there and the boy turned around to stare at the couple with a gratified grin.
“A bowl of peaches,” Silvio said tauntingly and Maja chuckled seeing his expression with the historian kissing the back of her neck softly. “With milk and cookies.”
“I think he played you dear,” Sirio said and she nodded before replying to the smugly grinning boy.
“You had enough for today. Maybe tomorrow.”
“Hmm,” Silvio hummed and stared at Nattas watching them from the door. “Fine. You can go now. The old man is here.”
Maja turned around, her hand clasping that of the smiling historian. This fool really loves her. “You need a change of clothes.” She noticed.
Nattas nodded and then walked past them slowly to pick up the small boy with one arm.
“You wanted something?” She asked hoarsely on his back as he carefully stood up to carry Silvio to the marble couch overlooking the large dark garden. The rain still rapping at the roof of the illuminated and columned logia. One of the lit torches shining a bright white light as it had that strange stone slotted in the container.
The blood carried a piece of you alive. Preserved your legacy.
One after the other the fabled old tales were coming true.
Fuck Brakis. Fuck Riveras and the Barons.
“Have the night off. You can stay here Sirio,” Nattas rustled and carefully sat on the couch to watch the night and the few lights of the sleeping city. “I’ll watch the boy.”
“Don’t let him stay up for too long,” Maja warned walking away with Sirio and Nattas nodded whilst looking at his son’s face. Those angles and the graceful ears. Plenty of Alden in him, he thought with a sense of pride. A bit of good-ole Nattas as well. Silvio winked at his father comically.
“What is it you little rascal?” He asked and Silvio replied in a whispery conspiratorial voice. Every day proving he’d a sharp mind but sometimes playing the fool well-enough to worry his father.
“I know where she keeps the cookies.” The boy had told him all serious. “But you need to get the milk out of the kitchen. She locks all the doors at night.”
I bet she does.
“But you know I’ve my own set of keys,” Storm mused meaningfully and tapped his small nose with a finger.
There’s a smart lad.
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