The isolation of the last week was starting to get to Freyza once his audience had been granted. Briefly he considered wearing his cloth of gold, but he decided against it on grounds of being slightly too ostentatious. Ostentatious, however, was the point. He had brought good bottles of wine for the both of them, as well as a timepiece, two things that had impressed westerners to such a degree that he tended to have them around for such occasions. Armed with his quotations, a sly smile and the unwillingness to not let this work for him, he appeared by their door and waited to be called in.
Where the advisors received him, was likely Harcourt’s office, given the large landscape of Gartham, his wife’s birthplace, gracing the wall behind his desk. As he came in, both gentlemen were seated behind the desk: Richard’s arms were crossed, and Harcourt leaned over.
‘My lord the Duke of Overleigh,’ Freyza began with a bow, ‘My lord the Baron of Milden Cross. I’ve been meaning to speak to you on behalf of His Imperial Majesty, our exalted Sultan Selim.’
He was impeccably dressed, wearing the sort of clothes that would suit an audience with royalty, not with their advisers, but with colours deep enough to appear with sufficient gravitas. Freyza took the small chests in which he carried their gifts and placed it before him as he sat down, not yet revealing its insides.
‘Lord Freyza,’ Harcourt replied with a simple nod. ‘It always dazzles me to receive word from the sultan, given it is never directly from His Imperial Majesty.’
Freyza chuckled. ‘Ah, it is a shame indeed that you have not been graced by his radiant presence,’ he explained. ‘However, as someone who has often seen his lordship, I can assure you that I hope to capture a bit of his excellent manners through my own form.’
He scraped his throat. ‘And the matter about which you were meaning to speak…’
Freyza straightened his back. Ilworthians — they rarely appreciated an aside, that much he knew.
‘It will not be a surprise to hear that your Queen has a way of ensnaring those she interacts with,’ he began hesitantly, awaiting their facial expressions. ‘I am afraid that His Excellency wishes to import more from the Ilworthian isles compared to the Baradran Kingdom — of course due to the instability — but given the increased costs of transport, it appears His Excellency wishes for a diplomatic exchange of sorts.’
Richard raised his hand. ‘I’m afraid Her Majesty is betrothed,’ he said, flashing a grin. ‘Let us proceed with that in mind.’
‘My goodness, Lord Milden Cross,’ Freyza chuckled. ‘Even if this were a marriage proposal I wouldn’t forward it to you — you wouldn’t like the terms he’d set. No Ilworthian woman would. No, I’m afraid this may have all the perks of your most fruitful trade agreement, your most gentle diplomatic alliance, and your most prolific creative endeavour. But none of the perks of a marriage.’
‘And just why would the sultan want to import his goods halfway across the known world?’ Harcourt wondered.
‘It is not so far from the Baradrans,’ Freyza protested. ‘And besides, we all know the other option of Massouron… His Imperial Majesty knows not to grant too much power to a Chavanet, if you know what I speak of… Souchon Palace will continue to stand and have the most elaborate embassies even if His Majesty refuses to give it a single piece of gold from now on. And, like I said before, I believe there would be much waiting he would do for a shipment of Ilworthian sycamore wood, if Her Majesty writes the cover letter for it. I believe His Imperial Majesty to be quite impressed, and I might add rather easily amused, at the marvel that is a female ruler.’
He wondered how the sentiment would fall, taking the chest from between his feet and opening their hinges, in order to sit them, unlocked, on the desk. ‘I hope that honesty is not lost on you,’ he said. ‘It is meant only in a positive if lighthearted sense.’
Richard was the first to cave, effortlessly pushing the lid off of the chest. He raised his brows as he peered in. ‘I am left to wonder about a term or two,’ he said. ‘Where does this sudden admiration come from, do you think? It could be that the actions behind your court may be as hidden to you as they are to us, but I still do wonder.’
Freyza’s smile was more like a nervous twitch than anything he could have meant. ‘Of course His Imperial Majesty wishes nothing more than to strengthen an alliance now another has fallen through,’ he said. ‘Is that not what your country requires of you, too? Will a treasury filled to the brim cause any problems for you? It’ll cost you nothing but a bit of Her Majesty’s time and a shipment of goods that will be handsomely paid for. Am I wrong to say that this is one of the better offers you’ve had in recent times?’
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‘The catch being, what exactly?’ Harcourt asked, admiring the timepiece.
Freyza shrugged. ‘It’s but a formality and really not necessary, but I believe for the amount that His Excellency is willing to offer, it would be impolite — and therefore imprudent — for Her Majesty not to at least write to our exalted Sultan in the Sbaian tongue. It’ll just be a matter of finding a teacher, for I believe the Sbaian language is so varied that a polite letter in one dialect will appear scathingly vulgar in the next.’
The advisors looked at each other, and Richard was the first to break his placid, expressionless face. ‘Well, I am sure someone lower down in your embassy will be willing to take that as a job,’ he said. ‘Am I incorrect?’
‘The Sbaian tongue is complicated and requires involved engagement with it,’ Freyza continued. ‘There’s an alphabet, the grammar is nothing like Baradran or Ilworthian, and the expressions are plentiful. I wonder if you ought to trust a lower emissary to spend so much time with Her Majesty, and I wonder what Lady Louise will think of the ordeal. Do not fret, though, gentlemen. Personally I have Friday mornings open already and I could manage a consistent slot mid-week.’
‘Against what sort of compensation?’ Harcourt asked. ‘Given the fact that this is being asked of us, I’m afraid it is not budgeted for.’
‘Certainly not supposed to be budgeted for either,’ Freyza said. ‘Ridiculous of me to ask anything at all for it. I am salaried by the Sultan and earn good commissions from work I do on the side. If you feared this would impede on any profit you would make, fear not.’
Their hopeful glances to one another made Freyza feel giddy — he knew he had done it. His legs were crossed, afraid to come off as in any way impolite or barbarian, instead appealing to the sophistication often attributed to his people.
It was Harcourt who broke the silence. ‘I take it that you have experience as a teacher?’
Freyza had to keep himself from smiling any wider. ‘Oh, certainly! My lord, I’ve spent my youth teaching Baradran nationals the Sbaian tongue. It was my first task once I learned Baradran. This will be as simple for me as it would be for your lordship to teach me about the intricacies of Ilworthian stewardship.’
‘Really?’ he asked. ‘I recall you were employed at the slave auction before you inherited your title.’
He raised his brows briefly. ‘My lord,’ he began calmly. ‘Odalisques don’t come with knowledge of the Sbaian tongue when they are sold into slavery, and few masters are willing to spend such valuable time teaching it to them. It happened to be that the Sultan preferred the fair Baradran kind.’
Harcourt scraped his throat again. ‘I see. Well, we will ask Her Majesty and discuss your proposal.’
Freyza stood up and bowed. ‘Please keep in mind, Lord Overleigh, Lord Milden Cross, that any questions you or Her Majesty may have, I would be more than happy to address. Especially from Her Majesty — as you may know I have been happy to be her acquaintance and there should not be any boundary between this proposal and the general workings of my embassy at Souchon Palace. We are here to help.’
Richard stood up as well and walked towards the door. ‘Master Freyza,’ he began, his hands behind his back. ‘I would say it has been a productive audience.’
Freyza turned to face him and offered him a single nod. ‘Well, do get back to me,’ he said. ‘So I can write His Excellency. I wish not to hurry you, but His Excellency despises waiting.’
‘Will do, will do…’ he said as a guard opened the door for Freyza, and the latter passed through the portal.
Once out, Freyza could barely contain himself. He took two deep breaths, stretched his neck which had felt incredibly tight with nerves, and took a confident stride back down the hallway, careful not to whistle to himself out of sheer glee at having his plan execute according to his desires. The hallway was relatively crowded, with servants and court natives walking to their destinations within the Ilworthian wing.
All of a sudden, he felt himself being tapped on the shoulder. Instinctively he turned and had to look down to meet the eyes of Lady Constance, who wordlessly handed him a piece of parchment that had been folded down and sealed. Before he could ask for her explanation, she was already gone.
Freyza looked into the crowd, hoping to spot Katherine, as the two were never far from one another, but to no avail. He held the note in his hand; it was sealed only by Katherine’s personal signet and not by the crown’s, which made him grin. That being so, he did not dare to open it in public.
He was walking out, past the guards, and found himself taking a lesser known about shortcut through the library, at each end of which there was an entrance that made it so one could cut right through Souchon Palace. His heart was beating in his throat as he took the note out again, only just noticing it was a piece of parchment torn from Katherine’s lavender-colored stationary. He carefully put a nail between the seal and the parchment to sense if it had been lifted before, and when he realized it was not, all the while walking through the library, lifted the seal.
It was hurriedly written, and smudged on the opposite ends of the paper that had been used to close it.
The nights have become unbearable without you. There is an insatiable selfish longing I harbour for you that consumes me, and that only you can lift off of me. Until you return, I remain,
Yours, desperately,
Katherine
He kept walking but felt himself go red. He folded it up again and neatly tucked it away, took a wrong turn into the library, and promised himself to quickly follow up on the Ilworthian council’s decision, as well as impress her with an invitation of his own.