It was late in the evening, but Duke Tylin Rithian still sat immersed in paperwork at his desk. A man in all black kneeled to one side of his chair and held out a new stack of papers. Tylin took them and began to leaf through them. The first few papers were records of the types of goods sold in Milliard County over the last few months and the names of the merchants and which groups and lands they belonged to. Flipping past those lists, he stopped on the next to last page.

“You’re sure this is accurate?” he asked the kneeling man. The man nodded, and Tylin stroked the stubble along his chin and sighed. “You may go. Keep watch around Mills Yard as you have been.”

The man stood, bowed, and within a few steps and a leap, was gone out of the tall, open window.

You’d think they’d at least close it behind themselves, Tylin thought wryly. But then he groaned and rubbed the bridge of his nose. I’ve been at this too long. He had people watching Milliard County and tracking any movement that originated with Brendwald–and there had been quite a lot recently. It was worrying that the influx of merchants that were selling adulterated or useless goods was rising. The count had already gone into debt to bail his people out once, and it seemed history was about to repeat itself.

But it was the last few pages that had shocked Tylin into doubting the intelligence his informant had provided. Apparently a knight of Brendwald had been seen heading to the count’s manor, not only once but twice. It seemed his people had expedited this information to him due to that. However, Tylin knew Duke Brendwald to be a cautious man, especially about his image. To the kingdom at large, Brendwald was a successful and benevolent man, one who donated much and lent portions of his fortune to those in need and even backed several of the king’s projects. He was popular among merchants and charities alike–mostly due to his wealth. He rarely allowed his knights to get directly involved in anything that could put a stain on that saintly reputation of his, such as the sabotaging of a county’s economy and food supplies for example. Something had caught Brendwald’s attention enough that he was willing to risk it.

Though, he likely has a nice cover story in place already, one that promotes his generosity. And it looked like Tylin’s guess was correct. As he turned to the last page of the report, he saw that the knight had spread word that he was there out of concern for the count.

Tylin pressed his lips together. There was another possibility as well. Though he knew Count Milliard to be an upstanding man, hard times and disease could push a man to do things he shouldn’t. Tylin had sent his informants back to Mills Yard for that very reason. There was no evidence that the count had given in to Brendwald’s demands–whatever they were–but he felt that it might just be a matter of time. And those demands would no doubt be a pivotal move against him and the rest of Rithan.

There was a light knock at the door. Tylin gave permission to enter. There were only a few possibilities as to who it could be; most wouldn’t dare to interrupt him late at night like this.

A man with blonde hair that was cut short in a military style and ocean blue eyes stepped into the room. “Up late again, I see,” he said with a friendly smile. He teased, but he himself was still up and dressed in his commander’s uniform. “You know, you’re going to prematurely age if you don’t get some sleep once in a while.”

Tylin scoffed at Erik’s nagging. “Says one who is also working late. And only you would have the nerve to say such a thing to me.”

“All the more reason that I do say it. And at least my late nights are not as frequent as yours.” Erik sauntered over to the desk and sat on its far corner. He took a cursory glance at the papers. “Hmm. News from Milliard?”

“Yes, and it appears things are getting desperate. Brendwald is pulling strings to bury the count soon, it seems. However–”

“However?”

“It seems he has foregone his usual caution and sent two of his knights to the count instead of the regular courier or merchant, and I’m not sure what to make of it. But knowing him, it will only lead to ruin..” Tylin didn’t have to add that the ruin he spoke of would also include harm to himself and Rithan–it always did. Brendwald was always taking jabs at his lands, his duchy’s economy, his reputation, and now even the lands he shared borders with. And while there were other lands that bordered their two duchies, none had been as vulnerable as Milliard County. It had become the ideal target.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

“I feel sorry for Count Milliard. Have you thought of offering him aid instead?” Erik’s idea was a logical conclusion, but Tylin shook his head.

“It would be no use. The count took the loan with Brendwald when he was drowning in grief over his wife only to find he’d made a deal with a devil disguised as a saint. Do you think a man who came to his senses over that would accept help from another duke so easily?” Tylin organized the stack of papers and slid it into a large folder. “Brendwald got to him first, and ever since, he has refused similar help from anyone, including Brendwald.”

“Yes, though the timing could be right for it, I see what you mean. There is no way the count could truly know who may be extending a hand on Brendwald’s orders. And while you’d never be one to follow in Brendwald’s footsteps to ruin a lesser noble or have them ruinously indebted to you–well, without good reason–you do have quite the reputation yourself.” Erik smiled to soften the reminder.

Truthfully, Tylin did not mind that he had a reputation for being bloodthirsty and unyielding, the exact opposite of Brendwald’s public image. Where Brendwald was seen as the kingdom’s benefactor, Rithan was the king’s sword. The people of his duchy even sometimes agreed with that image of him, but he knew they also respected him and knew him to be fair. But that side of things was never what sold newspapers. The count would likely think him to be even worse than Brendwald.

“I’m allowing several Rithan merchant caravans to travel through County Milliard as they go north to Arsthen. The quality of the goods they will carry has been assured, and I’ve kept my name out of it. That’s the most I can do.” Tylin leaned back in his chair and glanced at the still-open window. “The respectable merchants should buy us a little bit of time.” But Tylin’s tone sounded doubtful, even to his own ears. It was well known that Milliard was gravely ill and that his heir was still a child.

Yes, buying time is the most we can do at this point. He would have to be satisfied with preparing for the day that Brendwald gained control of Milliard County completely.

“I see,” was all Erik said in response.

“Ah, since you’re here and you’re so eager to see me have less work to worry about, how about you do me a favor?” Tylin smiled at his friend’s grimace. “I need someone I trust implicitly to accompany the Rithan merchants as far as the second town across the border.”

Erik smiled wryly. “So, you want me to go to the border town and see if any groups of people who might be Brendwald’s men or hire-swords have gathered?”

“See, you understand even when I don’t spell it out for you. Who better to go than you? Besides, it’s a bit odd that one thing or another seemingly always deters our merchants from traveling to the interior of the county. A few times may be coincidence, but several is suspicious. But not even my informants can pinpoint anything on it. ”

“Suspicious indeed. Perhaps whoever is pulling strings there is hiding behind several layers of curtains?” Erik tapped his lower lip, his curiosity peaked.

Well, now that he’s curious, I know he’ll do a good job at least. If anyone could sniff out what was happening at the border, Erik could. Tylin just hadn’t had the opportunity to send him away for that long until now. The overwhelming amount of work that had been needed following his hasty succession to the title of duke was finally leveling out.

Tylin stifled a yawn. “Ugh. I suppose it is time to call it a night.”

“Hell, it’s almost morning.” Erik smiled but shook his head. “Alright, I’ll take a trip incognito to the border, but I’ll be sure to collect my reward when I return. You still owe me a drink from the last favor I did for you, so we’ll make it double.”

“You know most commanders carry out all kinds of orders for their lords without so much fuss.” He leveled a glare at Erik, but his usual imposing stare had no effect on the man who had known him since he was small.

“Yes, yes. And I would, of course–if you pressed me–but then I’d never get you to loosen up and have a drink once in a while.” Erik held his hands up and shrugged.

Tylin nodded and waved Erik out the door. Erik made a half bow and made his exit without another word. Tylin could feel his exhaustion pulling at him, weighing him down, and looking at Erik’s teasing smile was starting to get under his skin. At least Erik knows when to make a hasty retreat.

He got up, closed the window, and latched it, but as he stepped away from it, something crashed through one of the window panes and lodged itself in the floor where he’d been standing.

Tylin moved away from the window, his gaze locking onto the crossbow bolt that was now deeply lodged into his study’s floor boards amid a scattering of broken glass. Pounding footsteps preceded a knight who then burst into the room.

“Your Grace! Are you alright? We heard–ah.” The knight’s eyes had searched the room as soon as he flung open the door, and soon landed on the bolt and the broken glass.

“I’m fine.” Tylin’s voice was flat. This type of attack happened so often that he was mostly numb to it. The culprits were always only somewhat skilled, and only a few had ever managed to actually injure him. So tedious. “Have the guards search the grounds, especially anywhere within crossbow range of this window.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” The knight gave a kurt bow and left quickly, waking much of the castle in his wake.

Tylin retreated to his bedroom to await the knights’ report. He sat on the edge of his bed and watched the low flames in his fireplace flicker as the back of his mind filled with dark thoughts.

Tedious indeed.