Those in power stand on the shoulders of the people, though often they fail to notice those on whom they tread.

* Unknown Cutsonian philosopher.

Darrian and his men arrived at the Bermont Estate to find Bermont Manor in flames and a company of guards shackling a group of people in the front gardens. There were also several corpses, and bits of corpses, in evidence, large scorch-marks on the grass, and the remnants of explosions. Whatever had happened there, it had been eventful.

Ferrous, who had turned back into Lord Bermont, stomped up to a man on horseback who looked to be in charge. Darrian kept close, wanting to know what was happening so he could signal his men immediately if things took a turn for the violent. They were outnumbered, but his men knew their business well enough. If it came to fight, he was confident they could win without too many casualties, so long as they struck first.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Ferrous demanded.

“Ah, Lord Bermont,” the man, who by his uniform was clearly the local sheriff, said. “These criminals were taking refuge in your home and then they burned it down in a skirmish with a rival group of bandits.”

This was about as flimsy an explanation as the sheriff could have made. The corpses strewn about were mostly dressed in Lhintish military uniforms, and a few were completely nude. Neither of those is a common outfit among bandits. Then again, the real Bermont might well have bought it as, by all accounts, he wasn’t very bright.

“This man is no criminal,” Ferrous said, gesturing towards Carrus. “He is my nephew and I’ll thank you to release him at once.”

The sheriff lowered his voice. “Perhaps we could discuss this in private? I received some pictures you should be aware of.” He paused significantly. “From Philious Bracken.”

A convincing look of concern crossed Ferrous’s face. “Okay. Let’s speak privately.” He clicked his fingers and pointed at Darrian, then motioned to follow him.

“Ah my Lord,” the sheriff said as they moved away from the crowd. “While I’m sure your man here is loyal, that isn’t exactly private.”

“Oh, don’t worry about him,” Ferrous said haughtily. “He doesn’t speak Cutso. Besides, you can hardly expect a man not to have any servants around.”

Darrian was dressed too finely to be a servant, even a high-ranking one, but this seemed to escape the sheriff’s attention.

The sheriff made a face and then motioned for one of his men to join him. The four of them walked behind the house, giving it a wide berth as it was still on fire, and stopped in the back gardens.

“So, about these pictures,” the sheriff said.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ferrous said, doing a fairly convincing job of acting like a guilty man pretending, poorly, to be innocent.

The sheriff drew a piece of metal from his coat and showed it to Ferrous.

“Do you know anything about this? Because it appears to have been taken in your parlour.”

Ferrous went pale, which is probably quite easy to do when one can change one’s shape, and his mouth drew into a small line.

“Yes,” the sheriff said. “I can see you grasp the situation. Now, there’s going to be a change of leadership around here.”

“I agree,” Ferrous said, suddenly sounding completely different. Where before he had using the haughty tone of a noble, now his voice was a sharp piece of steel.

The sheriff did a double take and his hand went to his sword. He never got the chance to draw it. Long spikes of bone erupted from each of Ferrous’s arms and he drove them into the sheriff and his guard.

Darrian jumped. He had been expecting Ferrous to do something, but he hadn’t been expecting that.

The sheriff and his guard made choking sounds and began to shake. Darrian noticed that the bone-spikes were coated in a clear fluid and realized Ferrous must have poisoned them somehow.

“I hadn’t meant to kill this one for another month,” Ferrous said, withdrawing the enormous spikes back into his arms. “I’m going to have to accelerate things.”

“You know,” Darrian commented. “You’re quite terrifying when you have a mind to be.”

“Look who’s talking,” Ferrous said. “You bolted me into a coffin.”

Darrian gave a nod of acknowledgement as Ferrous began to change shape before his eyes, his body flowing from the enormous form of Lord Bermont to the smaller shape of the sheriff.

“This is going to be difficult,” he said in a fair approximation of the sheriff’s voice. “No time to set things up properly and I had barely studied this man at all.”

Darrian had a feeling he knew where this was going. “What do you need me to do?”

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

“Well, now that you mention it. How are you at stripping and mutilating corpses?”

*******************************************************************************

Carrus was on his knees, with his hands and feet shackled together, waiting for a corrupt sheriff to return so he could be dragged off and executed. Nearby, Kalissa, Sal and Sarina were giving each other significant looks, probably communicating something about potential escape plans. Carrus wasn’t much interested in escape plans just then. He felt like he had been hollowed out. Eve had died because of him, because of the decisions he made, and she wasn’t the only one. He felt he had done everything wrong, but he didn’t know what he should have done differently.

After a time, the sheriff returned from behind the burning building, large sections of which had collapsed now. Bermont wasn’t with him, blackmailed into submission clearly, but Bermont’s man was. They stood before the crowd and the sheriff began to speak.

“This man is Darrian Rane, hero of the Battle of Lewisohn, and youngest man ever to reach the rank of general in Salitian history.”

Whispers went through the crowd. Whatever they had been expecting, this hadn’t been it.

“He contacted me some time ago about the treachery of Lord Bermont,” the sheriff continued while the other man, Darrian, withdrew an official writ from the capital, bearing the seals of all the major noble houses. “We have just interrogated him, and he admitted to working with Lhint in a treasonous attempt to sell out his own nation. These brave men and women, under the command of Bermont’s own nephew, learned of the plan and fought off a group of Lhintish soldiers sent here to weaken our defences in preparation for a full-on invasion.” He turned to address Carrus and the other prisoners. “We thank you for your heroism and quick-thinking and I personally apologize to you for needing to arrest you. We didn’t know who he could trust and who Bermont had gotten to, so we had to make him believe we were after you and yours so we could look into his affairs without him becoming suspicious. I assure you, you were never in any danger from us. Men, let them up.”

The guards, confused, did as they were told and unshackled Carrus and the others and helped them up. The sheriff continued to speak.

“Men, I owe you an apology as well. I wasn’t sure who I could trust with this, so I didn’t tell you any of this earlier, but I see now that I was mistaken not to put my trust in you. You have all comported yourself well today, and I see bright things in all of your futures. I have spoken with General Rane and he has agreed that you will all be receiving an official commendation from the capital for your outstanding work. Sadly, one of our own won’t be able to share in this glory, as he was killed by Bermont in an escape attempt. Once he did that, we had to execute Bermont on the spot, so he unfortunately won’t be able to stand trial for his crimes in the capital. Fortunately, we know that the heir to the Bermont House was not tainted by his uncle’s treachery. So, let me be the first to congratulate you on your new position, Lord Carrus Bermont.”

What?

If Carrus had a week to consider all the ways this whole mess could have played out, this would never have crossed his mind. He had no idea why the sheriff was saying any of these things, as they certainly weren’t true. He had to be up to something, but Carrus had no idea what.

“I will be helping General Rane to clean up the mess here with his men,” the sheriff said. “But I’ll see you all back at the station later to discuss your commendations and the pay rises that go with them.”

*******************************************************************************

“I want some answers,” Kalissa demanded of the skard that was wearing the sheriff’s face.

The guards had gone and Darrian’s men were busy putting out the last remnants of the fire that had claimed Bermont Manor, which left Kalissa, Sal, Sarina, Carrus and some staff from the Snake Pit standing with the “sheriff” and Darrian Rane, the Young General himself.

The fake-sheriff grinned and his eyes changed from a grey-blue to a brilliant red. “I suppose I should explain, shouldn’t I?”

“That makes a lot more sense,” Sal commented, clearly only then realizing that this man wasn’t the sheriff.

“Tarmigan?” Carrus asked, clearly realizing the same thing.

“Ferrous actually, Ferrous Pax. But yes, that’s the name I went by when I worked for you.”

“Ferrous Pax?” Carrus said, seemingly overwhelmed by what was going on. Ferrous Pax was a legendary Justice of the Good King, or at least he had been until he disappeared just over three years ago.

“Yes,” Ferrous said.

“You just told all those people I was the Lord of Cadersville,” Carrus said. “Why?”

“Because you are,” Ferrous replied.

“But I’m not a lord. My father was a tanner.”

“That’s not how nobility works. If enough people say you’re a lord, then you are. And I say you are the new lord of Cadersville. Admittedly, I would have liked to have a bit more time to organize things first. That was messy and some of those guards are bound to cause problems once they start thinking about some of the shit that I just fed them and realize it doesn’t make any sense, but we must do what we can with what we’re given.”

“Why?” Kalissa asked. “Why put him in charge of the city? What’s your angle here?” This was potentially a dangerous line of questioning, but Ferrous already knew she was a Shadow and so had plenty of reason to kill her if he wanted to keep her quiet. Asking a few questions wasn’t going to make much difference either way.

“Apparently,” Darrian said. “He wants to serve under someone who deserves it.”

“You believe that?” Kalissa asked. Darrian Rane was a legend, much studied at the Academy. Kalissa herself had written a paper on his tactics during the Landsteiner Rebellion. Meeting him in person was surreal. She might not have believed it at all had he not looked just like his portrait. She might have been starstruck had she had the energy for it.

Darrian gave a little shrug. “He was truthful about other things, and I owed him for kidnapping him and bolting him into a metal box by the arms and legs.”

Kalissa blinked at that. Bolting him in?

“It’s the truth,” Ferrous said. “I have lived a long time and heard tales of great heroes and champions, but if they ever lived, it was long ago. I spend much of my life trying to find someone worthy of my loyalty. I thought I had it in King Hammond, and I served him for years until I found out he was a raper and a bastard. I have served others too, and they turned out to be no better. All I want before I die is to follow someone that I believe in.”

“And that’s me?” Carrus said, disbelieving. “I’m no leader.”

Ferrous shrugged. “You care about people. Put them before yourself. That’s good enough for me.”

There was a chorus of agreement from the whores and the bouncer who had come to rescue Carrus at significant risk to their own lives. To inspire that kind of loyalty did say something good for the man, and he had certainly seemed sincere to Kalissa. But still…

“You did all this just to work for someone you like?” Sal asked. “Why not just take over yourself?”

Ferrous smiled a sad smile. “I did it to serve someone who deserved it. I don’t deserve it.”

Sal nodded, seemingly satisfied with that.

“So,” Kalissa said. “What do you plan on doing with the rest of us?”

“I’m not going to do anything,” Ferrous said. “Carrus is in charge now. It’s his decision.”

Carrus shook his head, the reality of the situation seeming to dawn on him for the first time.

“I think we can work something out.”