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Chapter IV : Patronized
Midday of Quartus, Twenty-Eighth Day of Harvestmoon
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Tom Reynolds was Bank Chairman of Angkor, a title appointed by King Richard to manage the nation’s economy, set fiscal policy, and foster local commerce through loans and subsidies. He was close to finishing his monthly ledger, a balance of accounts that included some of Angkor’s wealthiest businessmen. Stacks of gold surrounded his desk, all thoroughly counted. A large leather-bound notebook sprawled across the center, containing a full history of transactions and ensuring an accurate account of every penny.
It was a sizable job, but he had done similar work as economic advisor to the great Sultana, Khan Daria. His former employer was ruler of Malden, a country well known for its wealth and economic status. Also, an ideal target for King Richard to recruit new talent. He needed only to provide some tempting compensation, in return for Tom’s defection to Angkor—which he accepted.
The timing actually worked well in his favor. Tom was recovering from the death of his wife while raising his only daughter. The precocious child was born—or perhaps cursed—with the ability to cast magic. Many Maldenese shunned magic, and Tom was no different. He believed in hard work, dedication, and wealth. Anything aligned with supernatural forces wasn’t raw talent, but rather an unearned advantage, too easily corrupted or misused.
It had certainly been a bane for his late wife, Rosa’s mother, Malinda. She had been born with potential, too. Maldenese scientists believed it was caused by a chemical in the blood, which they called manna. There was no cure, and any Maldenese unfortunate enough to have inherited such a trait needed only to isolate themselves and allow the ailment to lose its hold. Indeed, the data suggested that without practice or refinement, manna production would slow over time.
At least, that was true for most people. In rarer instances, a person’s body might produce so much manna that the urge to use it would eventually become unbearable. Malinda had neither seen nor used magic her whole life, but a chance encounter with a travelling magician changed all that. To a person who had never experienced the power, a single spell could easily spiral into an obsession. The taste of manna was like a drug for Malinda, tempting her to weave ever more complicated spells. She could not satiate her desires, and within a week, she miscast a spell so great that it tragically ended her life.
Tom was devastated. He loved his wife with all his heart and feared the curse would one day pass to his daughter. In his ignorance, he forbade her from anything that could conceivably be a gateway to magic. He was guarded and overprotective, never letting her leave the estate unaccompanied—least of all to the open venues of town, where street wizards and sorcerers performed their dirty tricks. Tom brought in homeschoolers, musical mavens, and etiquette professors, all so Rosa would have no need to venture off the estate. He vowed to always keep her safe.
Despite his efforts, the signs were clear. Her powers burgeoned, and Tom had no choice but to admit his zealous protections weren’t saving his daughter’s life, but rather dooming her to the same path as Malinda. Fortunately, King Richard’s offer arrived around the same time. Tom knew Angkor was a country where scholars and schools of magic were commonplace. It would be an environment for Rosa to live and thrive openly. Believing it to be his only option, Tom packed and moved halfway across the world.
It wasn’t easy raising a daughter who could walk through walls, float to the rooftops, or play tricks on the servants. If anything, he had to watch her more closely. While her new tutors assured him that she’d be schooled in the proper use of magic, and her life would never be in danger, it took ever more aggressive parenting to ensure that manners remained in check.
Then came her rebellious years. Rosa wasn’t just a wealthy girl spoiled with access and privilege. She had powers beyond the reach of any peer. It wasn’t possible to merely tell her, “No.” Without structure and guidance, her impulses were sure to be the end of her. They very nearly were the day she met Bram Morrison.
Tom wanted nothing more than to see his daughter happy. But she was unlikely to ever survive a life with a Gnostic Knight. Bram might have been an honest man, but he gave up having a family the day he committed himself as King Richard’s attack dog. Rosa wouldn’t ever be his priority. She couldn’t be. And the result was sure to be tragic. Bram proved this all the time, with his top-secret trysts and last-minute absences. Tom needed to intervene, which was why he summoned Rosa to the bank that day.
A solid gong reverberated through the antechamber, a signal from the clock tower that the first hour past High Sun had arrived. White-collared workers throughout the inner city returned from their lunchbreak, passing through the bank’s golden arches, which gleamed in the midday light.
Tom never made a habit of taking lunch. Sure, his servants brought him nibbles throughout the day, but he insisted on working straight through. A comforting silence hung in the air, interrupted only by the hollow footsteps of bank employees traversing floors made of alternating tiles of lapis and ivory. Sunlight drifted through an overhead dome, accenting motes of dust—tiny detritus that drifted through the air as if each had a mind of its own.
Tom dabbed his quill in his ink bottle, about to finish his final entry, when he noticed his daughter enter the room. She was escorted by one of the bank guards, who took a position by the door to block any potential premature exits. Tom held up an index finger, signaling that he acknowledged her presence, while asking that she wait for him to finish.
She scowled, clearly impatient, but he wasn’t about to interrupt his count. After all the decades he had spent balancing books, he would never risk smearing his flawless record. At last, he closed the ledger and welcomed his daughter in a bright and baritone voice.
“Rosa, my dear! How considerate of you to answer my summons.”
He rose from his desk and stepped around his mountain of coins to welcome her. He was an oversized man in his fifties with white hair, bushy eyebrows, and a close-cropped beard. He wore a sapphire-blue coat with white hose, which he chose because they matched the room’s décor. He reached out with a hand several shades darker in complexion than Rosa’s.
“Hello, Father.”
She might have been an adult, but at that moment all he saw was his little girl. Sulky and strong-willed, she was certainly her mother’s daughter.
“Why did you send for me?”
He decided to evade the question, perhaps to add a touch of guilt to keep her on the defense. “Why wouldn’t I? It’s been a few months since last we spoke. Isn’t a father allowed to see his daughter?”
Rosa lowered her head. “I’m sorry I haven’t visited more often. I haven’t been feeling well.”
He knew it was a lie. Any pains she felt were self-inflicted, wounds of a jilted lover. If only she’d come to him sooner, he would have remedied it already. But she was stubborn, and she would continue to be if pressed. Still … he couldn’t resist a few crocodile tears.
“Oh, how it saddens me to hear that. I wonder what could possibly be the culprit.”
Rosa’s facade darkened. He hoped he had not come across too facetious. It was time to cut to the chase.
“I know! Sir Morrison left again last night without telling you, didn’t he? My, my, that would be terribly rude, given the commitments you made. What kind of family man puts his soon-to-be-wife second, time and time again? I shouldn’t be surprised, you know. He has managed to avoid tying the knot for five straight years.”
Rosa huffed loudly. “Father, you’re always jumping to conclusions. It’s not like he does it on purpose. The Knights need to leave at a moment's notice. That’s his job! And, besides, you have no right to be nosy. What Bram does is between him and me!”
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Tom tisked. “Don’t be upset with me, my dear. I check on you because I care. And I have every right to know what happens to my daughter.”
“No, you don’t,” she insisted. “You’re invading my privacy!”
“You’re living in my house,” he reminded.
Rosa planted her hands squarely on her hips. “I’m twenty-five years old! It’s time you gave me my own space!”
Tom scowled but kept calm. “I give you everything you ever ask, Dear Rosa. Perhaps that’s been my mistake. Perhaps … if I had let you earn a living, you’d be more grateful for what you have and better understand what I’m trying to do for you.”
Rosa’s eyes widened. “It’s not that I’m ungrateful, Father. I’m thankful for the manor house and the estate. It’s just that I—”
Good. She was backtracking.
Tom pounced. “I have no doubt that you appreciate the roof over your head, but do you truly know how much it costs to provide you with the lifestyle to which you’ve grown accustomed?” His question was rhetorical, but still worth an added pause. “Surely you must realize it’s greater than any stipend Sir Morrison could ever hope to make as a Knight.”
It struck a nerve, just as he hoped. Bram might have risen quite high in the kingdom, but he was still a servant of King Richard. Some soldiers chose to own homes or buy land, but mostly those from wealthy families or backgrounds. The rest lived in the military barracks, where room and board were offered freely. Their salary was more of a discretionary fund, meant to keep them happy. It was never meant to lift a man to the same level as the aristocracy. To think Sir Morrison could ever hope to afford a manor house or the staff needed to maintain one was laughable.
Naturally, Rosa fought back. “You exaggerate, as usual, Father. Bram isn't royalty, but he doesn’t need to be. We just want a life that’s decent and sustainable. A small place in Niedam is all we need.”
Rosa referred to the village at the city’s outskirts. But even then, she was being naïve. Tom rolled his eyes, and a chuckle escaped his lips. “It’s unlikely you have any idea about the true cost of living, Rosa. Even Niedam carries a premium, and dare I say, a Knight’s salary is more likely to afford a cottage … along a dirt path … an hour’s march from the city. Is that what you want? Do you truly think that’s good enough to raise my grandchild?”
Tom was sure of one thing: his daughter would stand in defiance, no matter what he said. Somehow, stubbornness beat good sense every time. He could threaten her with logic all day long, and it wouldn’t matter that the kingdom’s salaries didn’t allow for upward mobility. And it wouldn’t matter that Gnostic Knights had no future outside of the battlefield. If Rosa wanted to prove her love by living like a pauper, that’s what she’d do.
Then again, perhaps he was wrong. This time seemed different. Rosa struggled, pursing her lips and dragging out the silence. It seemed the weight of her pride finally met its match, contending as it was against the thought of losing everything.
After a long silence, he approached her gently. “See? I didn’t think so. Raising good stock requires something more dignified, and you’ll be needing the kind of inheritance that only I can provide.” He paused before clucking his tongue. “However, if I’m to invest my hard-earned money to give you a future, I expect to see you make an effort to sustain it.”
Rosa folded her arms, but his words put cracks in her defenses. After a few moments, she relented. “What do you want me to do? I’m not going to kick Bram out of the house, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Tom sighed to hide his grin. He knew he had the upper hand. “Rosa, darling, I want you to stop being petulant for a moment and listen. I’ve let you live in the summer estate for several years now. Initially, it was my way of providing support for your transition to civilian life after a hard and terrible war. Even so, I never intended to let things remain that way forever.”
Rosa’s face turned a shade paler. “You’re asking me to leave?” Her eyes shimmered, and she turned around to hide the tears. Not discretely enough for Tom not to notice.
“There, there.” His daughter was moments away from a breakdown, so he rushed over to comfort her with a hand on her shoulder. “I’m not considering any sudden actions, Dear, so don’t get upset.”
Rosa was so choked up, her voice was barely above a whisper. “What did you expect? Bram and I aren’t ready to move out, now or any time in the near future.”
Tom inched closer. “Well, that’s just the thing. I think it’s time you chose someone different, a man who stands a better chance of taking care of you.”
Rosa broke from her father’s hold and retreated several steps. “What!?”
He could tell from her face that she was piecing together his moves, slowly realizing that he had been manipulating her the whole time.
“All this so you can force me to be with another man?” she squealed. “I can’t believe you!”
“Calm down, Rosa,” Tom commanded, his tone now very much asserting his fatherly authority. “The choice has always been yours. I’m only informing you that the charity on which you’ve grown to depend won’t last for much longer. On the other hand, a young woman like yourself, at the peak of her beauty, won’t stay single for long. You’ll have no worries about homelessness if you start looking for a suitor now.”
Rosa shook her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe this … do you have any idea how wrong it sounds for a woman’s father to threaten her lifestyle because he doesn’t like the man she’s with?”
Tom had no more patience for theatrics. “I’ll tell you what’s wrong,” he shot back. “Bedding with a man out of wedlock who has neither the desire to raise a child nor the income to support one. You understand that, don’t you, Rosa? I’d put my dislike of Sir Morrison aside if I thought he could provide for you, but my main concern is that you don’t wind up a washed-up scullery maid who’s wasted away her life and has nothing to show for it. I know you’re stubborn, Rosa, but by the Goddess, you know I’m right!”
There. Right on the nose. Rosa shrunk before his words.
“Well, Rosa?” he coaxed. “Do I have your word that you’ll think about it?”
She nodded stiffly, but she was too choked up to verbalize anything. She sniffled and used the tips of her fingers to wipe her eyes dry before responding. “It’s just that Bram’s a hero, and we’ve been through so much. He risked his life in The War, and I’m certain that Angkor couldn’t have attained peace without him. You want me to trade all that for a crusty old aristocrat?”
Tom approached once again, this time placing an iron grip on her elbow. She had to internalize that a future with financial security meant more than fairytales about knights in shining armor.
“Listen to me, Rosa. I have nothing but deep respect for our veterans. But you should know better than anyone that Bram’s first loyalty is to the king. Whatever you choose to sacrifice for him, you should expect nothing in return. Ever.”
At last, the truth sunk in. Rosa looked dejected, and her body went slack.
Tom softened his features and transitioned to a more sympathetic tone. “Come now … It’s not like I would punish you for falling in love with the wrong man. I just want what’s best for you. That’s why I’ve already gone ahead and found someone with whom I think you’ll get along splendidly.”
He hoped she was strong enough to handle another bombshell. Fortunately, she seemed to have lost the will to push back. She still wiped away wetness from the creases of her eyes.
“Who, then?”
Tom was deeply satisfied. His plan worked perfectly. “I believe you two have already met. It’s Angkor’s Grand Craftsman.”
Rosa was surprised. “Cedric?”
Indeed. What kind of match would it be, had Tom chosen a complete stranger? Cedric Curtis was a couple of decades older than Rosa, but the age difference was small compared to their shared interests. Tom had done his research, and he was certain she’d find him warm and inviting, especially when compared to a Gnostic Knight.
He smiled. “Yes, and I’ve arranged some time for you both later this evening, in lieu of the gathering I had originally planned.”
Rosa appeared weak in the knees. Tom hoped he had not blown it by being too presumptuous. Then again, her lips lacked admonition. In fact, she looked as if she might even be contemplating the proposal. Yes … her silence was just as good as consent.
His smile widened. “See … I only want what’s best for you. Now, come here and give me a hug.”
Hesitantly, Rosa placed her arms around his chest. She looked almost ready to refuse, but the words never made it off her lips.
He returned the hug and patted her back for good measure. For a moment, it felt like old times. There was just one more thing.
“Rosa, before you leave ….”
Her voice was soft, as if she were still deeply in shock. “What is it?”
He retraced his steps, back to his desk. “Andrews told me about your little encounter. Do you know to what I’m referring?”
Her eyes were alit with recognition. “You mean the child? But father, I hardly think—”
“The law is quite clear.” He decided to make one final point. After all, Rosa had behaved predictably so far, so she wasn’t about to push back now. “No matter what age a trespasser might be, anyone who sneaks past security checkpoints needs to be dealt with by the authorities. I won’t have my daughter be seen as an accessory to crime.”
“But, Father!” Shock gave way to surprise, which turned to indignance. “What harm would ever come from a child of only seven or eight years—”
“We have laws for a reason, Daughter. No one wants to see a young boy hang, but if he managed to sneak past our barriers, it points to a flaw in our system—a threat which needs to be addressed! And … an example which must be made. Otherwise, it’s just a matter of time before our district is overrun by thugs and assailants. Do you understand?”
He sank back into his desk chair, once again hidden by his coins.
“I asked, ‘Do you understand?’ ” It was a harsh lesson, but one she needed to learn. “The next time this happens, you’ll do the right thing and not interfere. Am I clear?”
She looked stunned, but she managed a whimper. “Yes, Father.”
“Good,” he responded curtly. “The gentleman here will escort you out.”
He gestured to the armed guard at the doorway, whose presence seemed to take Rosa by surprise. She looked at Tom pleadingly, but he ignored her. She’d never learn if he coddled her now.
The guardsman tried to grab her shoulder, but she evaded his grasp.
“Let go of me,” she snapped. “I know the way out.”
With a huff, she left the room. The guardsman followed her out, no more than a pace or two behind.
Tom let out a deep breath. His performance was flawless, just like his accounting. He decided he would check back later to see how the evening with Cedric was progressing.