Chapter 82

A wave of chilly wind blew by as Gerald and his aides spoke in the keep's gardens. He hoped that the winds of winter wouldn't be too harsh on him during the coming journey. It wasn't the peak of winter cold yet, and perhaps he was fortunate to travel at such a time.

"My lord, let me accompany you," Robard pleaded. "This journey could be more dangerous than you think."

Gerald sighed, a bit irritated. He didn't know if this was the twentieth or the thirtieth time that his head knight begged him to bring him along the journey. "You need to stay here in Ard and command the army." He glanced at Gasper. "Most of the elite corps and their commander will be with me on this journey. It should be safe enough." He would also have Uncle Rudolf by his side.

Robard nodded reluctantly, his face still scrunched up in a lasting grimace.

"Are you certain that the benefits are worth your journey, my lord?" Arthur said.

Gerald smiled at his sly minister. The latter had been attempting a softer approach to veer him off going to the capital. "I am certain, Arthur. Do you think a Master smith will return with anyone you send? A lord's name wouldn't be enough to persuade any with such talent, but a lord's person might." He didn't mention that he wanted to see the capital out of pure curiosity, too. It would be a much needed experience for him. He'd lived in a large city before, Malfi City. But he'd never visited the capital of Andross. Now it was time for him to visit the capital of Maric, his home.

Arthur nodded, keeping a straight face.

"When do we leave, my lord?" Gasper said.

"In three days," Gerald said. He turned to Arthur. "Have you prepared our expected expenses?"

"Yes, my lord."

Gerald nodded in satisfaction. His journey promised to be smooth, but he wouldn't wager on such an expectation. "How is Georjay doing?"

"He hasn't found anything else yet," Arthur said. "But he still insists that there is more to be found."

"Let him continue then," Gerald said. "He has already proven capable enough. He deserves some trust when it comes to his trade."

Arthur nodded.

Robard cleared his throat. "My lord, Lucas sent word today. Refugees have begun to appear again. They're already flocking north in numbers. Apparently, the war between Mali and Neejer has gone into some mad rampage where each Kingdom attempts to deliver as much damage as possible in the other's lands. The defensive lines of both sides have collapsed, and each one of them has succeeded in breaking through into the other's border on a different front."

"Scorching the earth?" Gerald raised a brow. It seemed that the grudges between the two Kingdoms had spiraled into something more worrying. The damage dealt from this war would last for years or even decades, and such damage would involve many more refugees fleeing north.

"He asks if he should allow them passage, my lord," Robard continued.

Gerald grew silent for a moment. It was an odd decision to made, considering the time. He already had quite a few idle hands in Ard. Most of them had been put to work, but there were more. He wondered, however, would it be the same in a year or two? With the mines that had been found and even more that could possibly be found in the coming days, he didn't know if he would have enough working hands. Ard was already expanding into a city, slowly but steadily. Soon enough, there would be honest work for everyone that wanted it. But if there weren't enough people, it would slow him down.

There was also still quite a bit of land in the scorched forest left uncultivated. So food wouldn't be a problem for a while. The basin had been raising more crops than the mouths of people needed so far. Of course, that had included feeding the refugees as little as possible. Now with almost everyone working, more grain would be needed. And the scorched forest would provide that needed grain.

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But allowing new refugees passage into the basin came with its risks. Those that made it this far north weren't the best of the lot. The handiest among them would be picked by nobles farther south. That meant that many among those he intended to receive could be seeds for banditry or thievery in his lands. With the mountains nearby, it would be hard to catch cautious and small groups of brigands. "For now, tell him to let only families through," Gerald said. It was much less likely for a father to resort to banditry, specially if he was offered honest work.

Gerald believed that receiving whole families would be the safest and most lucrative for him. Settled working hands that were ready to latch onto the nearest opportunity of honest work; he could think of nothing more suitable for his territory.

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The largest hall of the Malfi palace was brimming with life. The fiddling of harps rang throughout, and the soothing sound of flutes permeated the warm air.

Near one of the walls covered with golden drawings, Lena was standing, unnoticeable as one could be. She sipped wine from her goblet and watched the many people that filled the hall. Among those present were the allies of the Duke; his only two landed vassals; and many court nobles, the lowest of the high. Court nobles were given their honorary titles without any land, often by the King. They did get privileges that others did not have though. That was why they always had great power within the cities they lived. They often engaged in trade or owned property that produced considerable amounts of coin.

Many ladies-in-waiting had arrived to this celebration, likely hoping to catch the best opportunity on occasions like this one.

Lena's eyes were following certain people however, mostly those who controlled her fate; the Duke and his sons. The night was still young, and they were keeping together for now. If she wanted a real opportunity, she would have to wait until she could talk to one of the two older sons without company.

Her chance soon came when the Duke's dear friend and ally came down the stairs in the middle of the hall, carrying his first born in his arms. The Duke trotted up to his friend and silenced the hall.

He cleared his throat amidst the silence and began, "most of you know why I'm hosting this gathering of ours." He ran his eyes over the crowd below. Then he gestured towards the newborn wrapped in several linen strips. "It is to celebrate this first son of my dear, loyal friend; Count Lerolian." He gave his aged ally a smile. "It is by the grace of the Mother that he bears this son, and it is also by her grace that we are gathered here tonight."

Lena held back a snort. She knew as well as anyone in the palace that the Duke didn't believe in the Mother. Only one out of two common men in the southern lands of Andross believed and followed the shrine of the Mother. And even fewer lords did.

"Let us celebrate today this wondrous occasion, and drink to the health of the new heir of the Lerolian County."

The guests raised their goblets towards the rising stairs then took customary sips.

Lena's eyes latched onto Verion, the Duke's eldest son. He was walking among the guests, receiving greetings from every side. Lena gracefully sailed through the hall, avoiding where her betrothed, Lorgo, was standing along with a crowd of his friends.

When she finally arrived at the spot Verion occupied, he was already crowded by many young ladies,most of them 'unwittingly' standing near him for no apparent reason. Quite a few among them stood in pairs, discussing a triviality or gossiping in hushed tones. The troubling thing for Lena, however, was that Verion was rarely given a moment's respite. Whenever a lady left his company, another would find an excuse to speak with him. Most of them were girls of her age or a few years older. They sought a smooth rise by marrying the heir of the Malfi Duchy. It was a silent but ruthless competition among them, which at times would cause the air to have a weight of its own.

Lena waited for her chance and then lunged at him, her lunge being a smiling approach that was no less graceful than her sail through the hall.

The way she was ignored, however, would infuriate her for days, but it wouldn't defeat her.

Verion gave her a brief, perhaps disdainful, glance and moved his eyes to the young lady coming up behind her. The latter spotted the invitation in his eyes and with haste arrived at his side.

It was difficult for Lena to retreat away from him with similar grace to how she had arrived, considering the snickering gazes that she was receiving. So she turned around and strode away, barely managing to keep a straight,untwitching face.

She found her way to one of the corners of the hall, taking another wall as her companion and beginning to look for Alven, the Duke's second son. She had no time to comfort herself. She would certainly be reflecting on the brief incident later at night, in her chambers. But at least Aya would be there to confide in.

Alven wasn't nearly as crowded with young ladies as his older brother was. He walked around the hall, conversing with court nobles and greeting several guests.

She found her way to him, adopting a softer approach this time. After Alven stopped walking around, she found a spot not too far from him and stood there, waiting for an opportunity.