I was disqualified for my actions in the ring that day. Erik had lost an eye and most of his face to my hand. There were cries for blood in the air. My blood. I had violated the unspoken code of honor. I wondered if would have been honorable if my head had been split. Doubtless there were many would have rejoiced to see my cloven skull. Erik had friends in the camp. Whilst my choices had led me away from Light house Keep, he had grown to become a member of the community. I was the offending outsider. There were still rumors about Hass. Erik had seen to it that his memory would not be forgotten. It was settled that Lord Cedric himself would intervene. There was no court of speakers nor an assembled jury. I was summoned to the heir apparent quarters alone. There was no fear in my heart as I walked into his tent. Rather a stubborn anger entrenched itself. I had resigned myself for the worst.

Lord Cedric’s quarters were spartan. Furniture of prodigious size was provided for him, but there was nothing exceptional beyond that. It was the first time that I would meet him face to face. I had known him impersonally and at a distance. Even then I had the impression that the man was a giant. Within close proximity, he was a titan. The scale of the man was entirely different. Not even southern highborn reached his size.

Rather than fear or awe, I could not help snorting in amusement upon seeing him. Grasped in one hand was tankard held with three fingers, a pinkie out. It reminded me of Janie sipping away at a cup of coffee. Seeing a regular sized tankard held in such a delicate manner was incongruous.

“Do you find something funny mister Saker?” He rumbled.

“No sir, only absurd.” I replied.

The devil was upon me again. He was a big man and a lot more powerful than me. I felt the desire to push towards the abyss once more. Lord Cedric frowned at my choice of address.

“I am the heir apparent to the Lord Protector young man.”

“I know mister Cedric. But what does thar or the Isles have to do with me? I am after all a routier.”

The heir apparent sighed and pulled a hand down his face. My blasé attitude towards the situation and my dishonorable status must have been expected. My flippancy must have been grating.

“Now I know why you are so popular… Normally I would have let the course of things go ahead. It would have been far more expedient to let justice take its course.”

“However?”

“However, you have my curiosity. And I have little better to do as of late.” Despite his declaration of whimsy, Lord Cedric had taken on a serious look. “I am not a man inclined to wasting resources. You Edwin Saker, possess skills that may prove valuable if fostered. Your turn of phrase is enough to tell me that you are familiar with Auburn at the very least. I am told that you can speak the language?”

“Well enough.” I shrugged. Despite my outward indifference, he too had my interest. This had not turned out the way I thought it would. Curiosity had swiftly quelled the rising demons.

“I need someone who can act as an extra set of eyes and ears around our southern allies. Preferably someone nobody would pay attention to. I also need a courtier to make things happen. Things are difficult in the south if you do not understand their way of doing things. I could call upon merchants and scholars from the Isles, but that would take time. Neither would they be entirely my men. They would be the Earls’ men. I had asked some questions around camp and found you a tabula rasa. You possess the prerequisite skills and traits I could build upon. Though now that I have met you, I have my doubts…”

Like many surly young men, I felt that my honor had been slighted. Yes, I am aware of the hypocrisy. Lord Cedric may have been playing hard to get. To get me invested. There are little better pawns than youths with something to prove. He however held genuine concerns about my suitability.

“If what I have heard was all, I may have taken a risk. Your nature casts doubts on your suitability for the task.”

“Is it a question of my ability?”

“No. It is a question of stability. I know that look in your eyes. I know what you are. So, do you.”

It is not often that we are presented with a moment of stark reflection. It is not as if some veil had been lifted and a moment of sublime self-realization had struck. Rather, it was the moment we look into the mirror we had only glanced at.

“Then what is to become of me?”

I had made it this far. I might as well finish the way I came in. I locked eyes with him.

“I do not know. I admit that giving you to the mob would be the most convenient option. But distracting them would only be marginally more trivial. My concern is if employing you would not result in a future complication.”

Lord Cedric like many highborn, viewed the un-augmented with condescension. Theirs was not an entirely unjustified perspective. They were our superiors in many if not all measures. The Heir Apparent was better than most. I think that even if he were not a highborn scion, he would have held others in the same regard as he always had. Unlike his father, Lord Cedric had ambitions. He was never cruel, but he was unsentimental. Ruthlessness is a virtue. Like all virtues it must be applied to oneself and others to mean anything.

On that night ambition won over pragmatism. There were wheel turning behind closed doors. I was the key who could open those doors. If he wished to insert himself into Auburn politics, he required reliable assets. Up until this point he had been grasping at straws. Money could only buy you so much. The Isles had no diplomatic credit so to speak. Whilst I was not a highly placed informant, I was a surreptitious one that could be fostered.

I awoke the next day as a new man. Rather a man reinvented. Gone was the directionless mercenary. Now I was a scribe to Lord Cedric. There was no small irony in my change in fortune. Was I now not in the role that I had so studiously avoided? It was of little consequence. I had seen the other side and now knew it to be nothing special. Besides, I was not to be a simple paper pusher. I would be an informant in the service of the Isles. Should my services be commendable, I could advance myself. If not, I would be left behind. There was nothing to lose.

My routine was largely the same as it had always been. I was still the part of my same band. I woke up in the morning for formation drills. I ate, slept, bickered, and bantered with the same men. What changed were the additional duties occasionally asked of me. Lord Cedric wanted to ease me into his retinue. My initial tasks were delivering correspondences and establishing myself as the valet of the northern lord. I never read his letters nor pried into what he was doing. I knew early on that knowledge was dangerous.

Unsurprisingly my presence was received frostily. When I was called upon to deliver my letters or visit the domiciles of the affluent, I was either turned away or made to wait at the door. Despite my official mission, I still looked like a ruffian. When I relayed my observations to a frustrated Lord Cedric, he tossed me a weighty purse and told me to sort it out myself. Suffice to say that I was stumped on how to solve my problem. In some ways this was the first test of my abilities. I had a bag full of money and no idea on how to spend it.

Oskar nor the band were any help. Winston hadn’t the faintest idea about high society, and Osmund was little better. Alwin and Godwin had some notion, but I did not think that appearing in gilded mail and leathers sent the right message. Looking like something out of the sagas was interesting but nor practical. I could have walked into any tailors’ shop and purchased the most expensive garments. But I had enough sense to recognize that as little more than gaudy. There were rules and games that had to be followed in Auburn society. There were rules in Isle society as well. I was unfamiliar with either. I knew the laws of cutthroats and mercenaries. What got you a dirk in the ribs and what won you respect. I needed help from someone who knew more than just fashion. Somebody who knew the game and all the faux pas of that world. Then I remembered the lady who taught me those words.

Walking into Dusien in the afternoon was uncharacteristically silent. The busy port town should have had hawkers and performers lining the streets. Mercantile traffic still flowed from the docks, but there was a diminishment of activity. The change was unsurprising to me. There was a melee being held out in the fields surrounding the city. The Free Cities mercenaries were putting on another show for the people. We of the Isles camp were also continuing our tournament. I had seen bookmakers and enterprising businesses of all sorts capitalizing on the events. The common people of the city had taken to the fields in droves to watch the games. Even more curious elements of the aristocracy had left to observe proceedings.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Janie was a paradox to me. Despite her chosen profession, she enjoyed a lifestyle beyond that of most. She was not some dockside lay but a courtesan. For all my worldly affectations, I was ignorant of many things. She inhabited a courthouse in the city. It sat on a hill overlooking the entire bay. From the street the building looked like another unassuming door amongst many. Once inside, the place opened into spacious courtyard garden. She had a doorman, butler, chef, and maid looking after her. To me it was a staggering entourage. She assured me that her staff were miniscule compared to the houses of proper nobility. When I was granted an estate of my own, I would come to understand her sentiments.

The doorman already knew me by face. He was polite whilst he asked me to wait for the household. I was something of a regular yet oddity. I was a paradox as well. My relationship with Janie was… unusual. I was not one of her many lovers nor a peer of her society. She accepted me anyways. I chattered away with the doorman whilst we waited. He let me inside and be both sat in his little room just beside the main doors. I was a regular face after all. She must have been attending to a visiting gentleman. We waited and waited as we spoke of the inane. The doorman was curious of the fights happening outside the city. He bemoaned his inability to go watch them. The lady did not enjoy the spectacle of violence. I threw him tidbits of what I knew.

It had been about half an hour when I heard footsteps descending the main stairs. I looked out our window to see the butler leading out a young man. I immediately knew him to be a man of the Free Cities from his dress. It was sober and demure in colors, but it had that intrinsic love of fine detail. I chuckled to myself as I realized that I had become familiar with them. He was tall and held himself in a way that spoke of refinement. He was a gentleman and I disliked him for it. The stupid pencil moustache he grew was ridiculous. But perhaps that was what people considered fashionable. I was jealous of him. The realization struck me like a hammer blow. Who was I and what did I want to be?

As the two men passed my view, I felt a faint feeling of recognition. The young man was the rider who had accompanied the captain general. He must have been an officer of some import amongst the condottiere. Or he was the captain’s lover. Yes, I was a dirty cynic even back then. The doorman quickly left our little room and went to man his station. There were muffled sounds of parting words, and the opening and closing of doors. His business concluded I was left alone. The butler and doorman soon found me and bade me to wait a little longer. The Madame would be informed about my presence.

I was told to come upstairs faster than expected. She was in her study rather than the lounge or boudoir. I was old enough to know what happened between men and women. I even knew what happened between the same sexes. Violence makes people honest. Janie looked completely unruffled. Perhaps the previous visitor had just made a social call. It was none of my business. Why did I care?

She looked marvelous like all women of her class do. But what was she? She straddled the strange twilight between the nobility and something other… I would come to learn her full name and the past associated with it. But that is not my story to tell. Whoever she was, she was the right person to come to. Women of society had the uncanny ability to transform themselves. With wigs, powder, and dyes, Janie could become somebody else. Today she was brunet with curls, tomorrow a bold redhead. When I arrived, she looked pensive. It was an air of unhappy rumination. I knocked on the open door to announce my presence. The expression changed so seamlessly I wondered if she ever wore it. Replacing it was a smile so natural, I once again felt that I made the right decision to come to her.

“What brings you here today my dear?”

This time I felt the smile that inflected her voice was genuine. She held out her hand and I took it. Bowing to touch it against my forehead, it was not the kiss of adoration or a gesture implying interest. She had insisted on teaching me, and now I knew that it would all pay off. Given permission to take a seat, I obeyed. I began our conversation by laying the bag of money Lord Cedric gave me on the table between us. I confess I was a little lost on how to approach this, so I took it on the shield.

“Make me a gentleman.” I blurted.

A raised brow and a fan appeared in her hand out of nowhere. I blushed and told her everything. The brow remained raised, but her mouth was covered fan. I explained my new position as the errand boy to the Heir Apparent. I left out my secondary role, but a woman like her could read between the lines. She ended my blathering by snorting an unladylike chortle. As her fan fell, I could see that she had been smiling the entire time.

“My dear child, you have climbed quite a bit in this world. But what makes you think that I can be of any help to you?”

I cleared my throat and gave her my most diplomatic smile.

“It is because you have impressed upon me many times how cultured and witty you are… And you are the only person that I know…”

My effort had died at the end. But she had always had that effect on me. She made me feel my age, she let me feel like sixteen-year-old.

“Well, if you put it that way… make a lady feel special then end it on a pitiful note. Why I thought I taught you better than that.”

There was no sting in her comment. It was a gesture of approval in a way. Whatever her past business was, I could tell that she was enjoying her new project. The prior melancholy was banished by exuberant energy. I did not know if I should be scared or pleased by her enthusiasm. We counted out the funds given by my Lord and planned accordingly. I returned to camp late in the evening with a promise to return the next day. I requested indefinite permission to leave the camp after my duties. Lord Cedric agreed with my request. He also gave me my first meaningful assignment. There was going to be a city-wide carnival at summers end. Anyone worth anything in society would hold their own celebrations. It had come to our attention that the Count de Charney would be visiting relatives in Dusien. My task was to arrange a meeting between the other prominent leader of the Conservatives. It was a tall order. I remember thinking that it was rather foolish to lay such an important task on my shoulders. I had severely overestimated the capability and resources of our leadership. More often than not, grand events happened in the most slapdash ways.

My ascent into presentability began with a visit from a tailor. This was no shonky shop vendor, nor was it the kind of sartorial master princes would patronage. Janie had hired the services of a modest but professional workman. She knew her business in these affairs. Sitting in her parlor, she watched the tailor’s assistants measure me head to toe. Her conversation with the tailor happened as if I were not present in the room. I let the masters speak whilst I did my best not to ruin their work.

“Good master craftsman, whilst I appreciate your suggestion, I do not think they are appropriate for our budding squire. Why, should he dress in the height of Auburn fashion he would be indistinguishable from his peers. I do not doubt with a little polish he would look quite the dashing young man, but that would entirely miss the point. We are not trying to make another gentleman. We are… what was the word you use dear?”

“Thegn, my lady.” I answered dutifully.

“That’s the word, thegn. We are trying to make a bold young thegan. Think northern, think rustic, robust… wild? Imagine you are creating a diplomatic uniform for an Isles ambassador.”

Those words made the tailor pause and rethink his approach. He had bought a portfolio of sketches that depicted his previous designs. Janie had chosen a shop that had a solid reputation for workmanship but lacked the distinct flair more famous masters had. She had thought further and deeper than I had. I needed to fit in just enough to be acceptable, whilst different enough to be memorable. The more prestigious shops would have turned down the assignment. Or they would have added their own distinct signature. We needed something new but tasteful to Auburn sensibilities.

“Of course, Madame.” The tailor answered. “I will require some time to come up with a suitable outfit. But rest assured I understand the spirit of your request.”

“Marvelous. I am thinking fur trimmings, scrimshaw buttons. That kind of affair. Savage but noble. Exotic.”

The tailor scratched his cheek and gave us both an uncomfortable look.

“Well I will try my lady, but I think that such fineries are beyond the allocated budget…”

Janie raised her terrible brow, but I just shrugged.

“I have some favors I can call in for the more exotic materials.”

I had Wulfric and he had a lucrative business captaining the Isles dispatch ship. Diplomatic immunity had let him smuggle wares in broad daylight. He could secure Isles luxuries for a relative bargain. I had other funds besides those given by Lord Cedric. It pleased me to think that I had gone above and beyond what he would have expected. It was galling being treated as an inferior. The smug looks and ill graces held by footmen and servants of the gentry was bitter.

As a final embellishment, a jeweler had been called upon to fashion stylized silver pin. It was cast into the shape of the Lighthouse, the symbol of House Averntide. Janie had wanted to have an arm ring crafted. It was traditional, and as she put it, wonderfully foreign. I managed to convince her not to. Such a gesture would have been disrespectful. A man did not make his own arm rings. Even more so in the image of his lords’ heraldry. He earnt it. A pinned insignia would have to do. As a gift she also placed an order for a gilt bronze rose. It was something I would wear for as long time.

I had now the trappings of a gentleman in the works. All that remained was to polish the man beneath the finery. The theater had lost a talented actress in Janie. We sat down a constructed something she called a persona. It was a mask I would wear. It was not enough to have a set of polished manners. I was about to enter a world that was as dangerous as mine had been. The only difference was that everybody was smiling. And everybody would be lying through their teeth.