A MATRIARCH’S RAGE (PART 1)
“No, no, no, if you try and subjugate a beast you’ll only break its mind or find yourself warring for dominance until it’s a ruined husk. A true familiar is not a slave or thrall, they are a partner, one whose bond is forged in magic. To do this well, the creature must be a babe with an unfinished soul and still pining for its mother’s teat. Weave a strand of the cub’s essence into your own soul and then return the favor. As the beast grows, the bond will strengthen and your minds will touch. Commune with the familiar, drink in its world, and let it lap at yours. Give the beast your love, earn its loyalty, and you will have no greater companion.”- Skinsister Palimo of the Witchlands.
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:: Three Weeks since the Fall of House Louon ::
Cole didn’t like to think of himself as a violent person. He took no pleasure in the carnage involved with his duties and tried to only use force when necessity dictated it. As a servant of Master Time, Cole wasn’t just a dealer in death but a preserver of life. That being said, the Paladin was seriously considering putting his axe into Lord Jindrich’s skull if the miserable bastard didn’t stop talking.
“All I’m saying is we must avoid escalating the situation, and the best way to do that is a compromise. We’ve been fighting with the vampires over Alidonar for decades, and nothing ever changes! Why must we keep sending gold and soldiers into this bottomless well when a treaty might be in reach?”
Shutting his eyes, Cole leaned back in his chair and took a long slow breath to calm himself. The stink of pipesmoke, old leather, and salt dust filled his nostrils and brought him no comfort. Trying not to think about Natalie’s scent or how much he missed it, the Paladin opened his eyes and refocused on the meeting he was supposed to be part of. He alongside more than two dozen others were seated around a large table in a dimly lit conference chamber in the Conradbau, heart of the city of Lowanburg. Night had fallen some time ago but this bloody meeting still showed no sign of ending. Glancing over at the heavy-set spy sitting next to him, Cole once again regretted granting the Quicksilver Player this favor.
Hands folded before him, Alexio Argentarii responded to the idiot lord’s words. “If the Southern Marches were to fall, the vampires would not stop. They’d be marching on Norica within the decade and Baiuvar in our lifetimes. Keeping Alidonar out of enemy hands protects the entire League, including this fine city.”
Bitterly, Cole noted the spy’s argument focused on the consequences to Lowanburg, not even mentioning the thousands of lives lost or ruined by the ongoing war. Here in the capital of Baiuvar, one of the southern Zentish kingdoms, the vampire threat was slightly more theoretical than in Vindabon. A fact Cole found a little bizarre considering they lay just beyond Norica. But, an inability to recognize a danger if it wasn’t breathing down your neck was a regrettably common shortcoming in people.
A shortcoming Cole was supposed to help the leadership of Baiuvar overcome, or at least that’s what Argentarii claimed. It had been almost a month since solstice and much of the Holy League was leery of pouring resources into the growing war with the vampires. Even with news of Harmas’s quarantine and corruption spreading, a strong faction of Leaguers seemed unconvinced the conflict was anything more than the usual border clashes they all knew. Lowanburg was one of the more vocal members of this group of bellyachers, which was proving to be an issue considering the city’s major export.
The economy of southern Baiuvar, the part bordering Norica, was built off the mining and selling of salt. Great deposits of the substance ran below the local mountains and their contents were traded all across the central league. Normally this sort of financial minutia would never have entered Cole’s world, but with the war growing the demand for the cleansing crystal did as well. Traditionally Lowanburg and its vassals lowered their tariffs and enforced some measure of price control when war broke out with the Duchies. Salt was often the first line of defense for armies fighting the undead, even more so than steel or leather. A handful of the stuff thrown at the right moment or a line poured along a fortress wall could spell the difference between life and death for many soldiers. Sure, it wouldn’t stop a vampire, but the powder hampered ghouls, rattlers, and most wraiths; which made up the backbone of Duchy armies.
Now, as the Elector-Prince of Vindabon clashed with the leeches and Harmas had gone silent, the rulers of Lowanburg were suddenly unwilling to do their patriotic duty and were even threatening to raise prices in response to the high demand. Naturally, Argentarii smelled a rat, particularly an undead one, and wanted to find out more. Which is why he’d ventured to Lowanburg officially as a Vindabonite trade official, and unofficially as an agent of Uncle Trickster. Similarly, Cole was on paper present to stress the dangers of the undead and remind everyone of the solstice ball attack he’d foiled; while more subtly helping Argentarii identify and eliminate any vampire subversion.
But even after three days of pomp and meetings, Cole still genuinely couldn’t tell if the ‘de-escalation faction’ of Lowanburg was intentionally or unintentionally serving Duchy interests. There were dozens of ways vampires could ensnare useful mortals and only some of them left magical traces. So far, Cole was reasonably certain none of the various mortal aristocrats he’d encountered were thralls. Recent experiences with Yara, Natalie’s unwanted blood slave, had given Cole some valuable insight into the Aetheric signs of vampire venom to complement his preexisting knowledge of the physical symptoms.
Eyes drifting over the two dozen officials filling the other chairs in the chamber, Cole knew even without the Sting in play, there were other ways for the nocturnal nobility to get their hooks in their daytime counterparts. Not least of which was mundane or not so mundane bribery. Gold and jewels had always been reason enough for people to betray their homeland, and wealth was just the start of what the vampires could offer those unscrupulous enough to do business with them. Forbidden spells to slow aging, subtle curses to drive enemies mad, or bewitching potions to compel affection and subservience. Clenching his jaw, Cole hoped if someone in this room had sold themselves, they’d at least done it for coin, not fell magic.
“Is something the matter, Sir Paladin? You look like you’ve swallowed something raw.” The words snapped Cole out of his musing and he looked to the source. Margrave Rabith was seated diagonally from the Paladin and had apparently interrupted one of his colleague’s list of complaints to speak. Of average height and thick physique, Rabith was bald but more than compensated with a massive mustache and beard. As a Margrave, he ruled over one of the Baiuvari border fiefs in the south and in theory should be more focused on the defense of his homeland than some of the other nobles present.
Clearing his throat, Cole glanced at Argentari and then decided to be diplomatic. “I was wondering what the price of a life is.”
An awkward silence fell across the chamber and Cole expected the spymaster to say something and recover the situation but Argentarii stayed silent telling Cole all he needed to know. One of the Paladin’s many gifts in life was making people slightly uncomfortable when he spoke honestly. It wasn’t something he did intentionally, but a life spent neck-deep in tragedy and horror had… warped Cole’s conversational skills. Lip twitching in a half-smile as he remembered all the times he’d stunned Natalie with some off-hand comment, Cole understood another reason why Argentarii brought him here. As Isabelle’s Homunculus Knight, he’d been party to enough negotiations to know how useful keeping the opposing party off-kilter could be. He wasn’t just here to champion the cause or seek out traitors but also to unsettle the leadership of Lowanburg.
Leaning forward, letting his bulk loom over the table, Cole did his job. “Salt will save lives in the east, that is not speculation but fact. So I want to know how much you think each life is worth. If I were in your boots I’d personally think every life, every soldier between me and the dead legions was worth quite a bit, more than a slight increase in profit.”
Face contorting in a sneer, another of the nobles, Baroness Tifina snapped. “Every year Alidonar demands more from us, more soldiers, more steel, more salt. More! More! More! We pay our obligations and hamstring our economy but nothing ever changes! For generations, my family’s lands have been selling salt to the marcher lords cheap as dirt whenever they howl about some undead incursion or other crisis that fails to materialize. Enough is enough, they can pay a fair price like everyone else and learn to respect us. All the Southern Marches do is take from us, antagonize the vampires, and demand more for the wars they start.”
Meeting the over-primped aristocrat's eyes, Cole stared, waiting for her to break. It didn’t take long as she recoiled from his gaze. She had a slight point about the marcher lords pushing conflict with Duchies but he wasn’t going to admit that. Roloyo was using Alidonar’s probing into the western Dragontail Mountains as their casus belli. A legitimate grievance, but one used to mask the pursuit of Natalie, which Cole couldn’t exactly bring up. So he simply said, “It will be hard for them to ‘learn respect’ if they’re dead.”
Margrave Rabith cleared his throat, pulling focus to him. “While the news out of Harmas is concerning, you have to understand Sir Paladin, Alidonar has been… how should I say it, ‘Crying wolf’ for generations now, can you understand our hesitance to continue selling our economic lifeblood so cheaply? How can we know the situation is as dire as you say? Plagues, vampire raids, and other crises have struck the Southern Marches many times, what makes this one different?”
Cole simply pulled his amulet from his shirt and let silver light fill the dim chamber. “You can know it’s dire, because I’m here, right now, telling you it is. Bearers of my mantle are not called when a situation is minor.”
Lord Jindrich scoffed. “Well as far as I can see, you aren’t out on the frontlines where you belong but instead browbeating us as a favor for Vindabon. Personally, I find that more telling, than any flashing trinkets.”
A twitch went across Cole’s face but he managed to keep his anger contained to just that. Jindrich’s words struck an ugly chord and raised Cole’s hackles. A year ago he’d have not hesitated to journey to the front, lending his spells and steel to the war; but time changes everything. He wasn’t an itinerant rest-bringer flowing between calamities anymore. Master Time had given him new duties, ones he gladly took on, not least because the focus of them made his heart beat faster just to think about. Even understanding the paramount importance of Natalie’s protection, Cole still felt some shame for not joining the fight, a shame that motivated him to help Argentarii in the first place.
Before Cole could respond to Jindrich’s comments, the Spymaster tapped the pile of papers before him on the desk and addressed the Margrave. “To double back a little, something you said I think harkens to the center of all this. I could more than understand the hesitance to implement the traditional salt subsidies but I’m finding the proposed price increase rather… concerning. It's one thing to want to keep your economy strong, it's quite another to try and profit off your cousin-kingdom’s war to defend our entire federation.”
That got some of the nobles to look uncomfortable, something Argentarii pounced upon. “Of course, I’m not implying the august and venerable kingdom of Baiuvar would stoop to such base war-profiteering. This proposal I’d assume is merely a negotiation tactic, not a tacit betrayal of the League’s holy charter of cooperation and mutual defense.”
A slight shift spread around the table, as one layer of subtly was peeled away like onion skin. Watching the elite of Lowanburg, Cole started to get a sense of the factions and the lever Argentarii hoped to use on them. Some of the assembly seemed unbothered by the Spymaster’s borderline accusation, these were probably the ones who viewed the proposal as a haggling tool like Argentarrii said. Others were a bit more incensed, clearly reacting to the barely softened insult for one reason or another. The last group though was the most interesting to Cole, they looked uncomfortable and kept glancing at one among them who’d hardly spoken as if expecting a cue from her.
Looking at the noblewoman Cole guessed led this third faction, he tried to remember her name. As far as he could tell she’d introduced herself on the first day of the meeting and after that only exchanged a few whispers with some of the other council members. Wearing extravagant clothes that didn’t quite match as well as she probably thought, the woman had long blond hair that had clearly been fussed over and her plump face was coated in a thick layer of makeup. While no expert on fashion or anything of the sort, Cole got an odd sense of disjointment from her appearance, like her ensemble had been assembled from half a dozen distinct outfits.
Considering this woman, and whatever role she was playing in events, the Paladin mused on the mixed reaction to the accusation. Shrugging internally, Cole decided he might as well play the role Argentarii expected, and hurled a rock into the political pond still rippling with the spymaster’s words. “If the proposal is not a negotiation tactic, then it’s a worrying sign, one open for interpretation. See, in my experience, people usually find what they’ve been taught to find when looking at matters like this. Alexio here is a trade minister, so he sees an attempt to squeeze financial considerations or base profit out of a crisis. But I’m not like him, or anyone else here; so my interpretation is different.”
Letting his words hang, Cole watched the aristocrats and bureaucrats digest this, waiting for Argentarii to cut him off or let the next stone fly. Eventually, one of the nobles, a member of the incensed faction asked. “Well, what is your interpretation, Sir Paladin?”
Letting his icy eyes flow over the assembled group, Cole simply said. “I see an organized effort to aid the enemies of mortal kind.”
For a moment a pin drop would have been audible, then the shouting started.
“HOW DARE YOU!”
“SUCH ACCUSATIONS MUST BE ANSWERED FOR!”
“WE SHOULD NOT SUFFER A GUEST’S INSOLENCE!”
“HE SAYS SUCH THINGS WHEN HE LAYS WITH A-”
‘URRGHHHOOOAR’
A primal roar cut through the tumult and got everyone to go silent. All eyes at the table turned to the dias along the room’s western wall and the throne seated atop it. Sitting in the ornate chair was an annoyed-looking teenage boy with long curly golden hair framed by an equally golden diadem. At the boy's feet were a pair of lions, actual lions, huge beasts whose eyes glinted with reflected firelight and regal distaste. Reaching down, the boy scratched beneath one of the lion’s chin, a gesture the cat appreciated before settling back onto the rich carpet. Leaning back on his throne, head propped up with one arm in the perfect display of royal aloofness, the boy said. “Insulting my vassals is a strange way to negotiate, Paladin Cole.”
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Cole offered the boy a slight bow and wondered if he’d overstepped. “Not an insult Prince Heinrich, an observation, one others might share.”
Elector-Prince Heinrich of Lowanburg, ruler of all Baiuvar and palatine scion of kingly blood raised an eyebrow. “Explain.”
Glancing at Argentarii and seeing him nod imperceptibly, Cole stood from his chair so he might be better seen by the monarch. “Vindabon, Norica, Alidonar, Helv, and a dozen other kingdoms have contributed soldiers and supplies to the war. They are doing their duty and might look unfavorably upon those seeking profit while their sons and daughters risk themselves. Some of those nation’s leaders will see this as Minister Argentarii does, finding it a distasteful negotiation tactic or grasping extortion attempt. Those are the ones who will give you the benefit of the doubt.”
Prince Heinrich watched Cole with growing interest, a fact reflected in his two lions as they stared at the Paladin. With all attention on him, Cole kept going. “Others, particularly those who’ve lost family and friends to the leeches will see this course as a betrayal, one that cost them loved ones.”
Jindrich scoffed. “Ridiculous, why would they blame us for those the vampires kill? Setting a fair price for salt isn’t the same as-”
Cole cut him off. “A child leans against a newly made banister, it breaks and they fall to their death. The fall killed them, but I’d wager the carpenter would be blamed.”
With the interruption dismissed, Cole continued. “War is costly, that is a fact, and why we are here. Every silver coin, every drop of sweat, and every second must be spent wisely if you are to win, and more importantly, win well. By squeezing the Prince of Vindabon’s army and the Alidonar garrisons you take resources that might save lives or win battles to line your coffers. How will that look to all those who’ve shed blood to keep the League free? Will they see simple greed or something darker at work? When the skies darkened and your kinsmen called, you want to answer with a price increase? Honestly, the most charitable interpretation of such actions is assuming the enemy is skulking among you, whispering poison into unguarded minds.”
Casually, Cole removed his amulet and held it out before him. “If anyone here has been twisted by the undead, now would be the time to confess and seek clemency. I’ve walked among the vampires and know not all servants of them are willing. My Temple has ways to free and help those bound by venom, geas, or simple blackmail.”
Argentarii coughed politely and Cole realized he’d probably gone too far. Settling back into his chair, the Paladin simply said. “That is how I see this, and I will not be the only one.”
Prince Heinrich rose from his throne and approached the table, his lions trailing after him like loyal hounds. “Well, that was dramatic, do any of my council want to rebut the Paladin’s point.”
Soft clapping came from farther down the council table and Cole realized the woman faction leader was the source. Rising, she offered a deep bow to the prince and then said. “It was indeed an excellent performance my liege, but one stained by ironically both hypocrisy and naivete. If it pleases you my Prince I’d gladly pull apart the Paladin’s posturing.”
Nodding to the woman, the Prince said. “Your perspective is always welcome Countess Lutisha.”
Smiling, the noblewoman turned her make-up-encrusted gaze upon Cole. “For one, he accuses us of being in bed with the enemy when he quite literally is. He rants about vampire subversion and vampire plots while his paramour is a feral leech that nearly killed someone at Vindabon’s solstice ball. My cousin was there and told me the whole wretched tale, and that’s not even mentioning the rumors that have abounded, about ancient curses and bewitchment.”
Cole took a long deep breath, he’d been expecting this and thankfully so had Argentarii. Conversationally the spymaster said. “It's funny you bring up these accusations and the solstice ball. Did your cousin mention anything else about that incident? For example, how Lady Natalie bears the stigma of Master Time and has proven herself a loyal ally of the living? Or maybe more curiously, the fate of a certain House Louon that leveled similar accusations against Paladin Cole. Speaking of my rather… blunt associate, you must forgive his curt ways but also consider that barely a month ago he dueled a Scarlet Knight of Dracon’s own siring after the monster invaded Vindabon. He is acutely aware of the dangers pressing in on us, and how fragile the illusion of safety is.”
Lutisha scoffed. “If he’s so concerned about the League territory falling into vampire claws, why is he here with you, not at the front as my dear friend Jindrich suggested?”
A smile that somehow reminded Cole of a fat cat’s smirk upon seeing a slow mouse spread across Argentarii’s face. “A Paladin, especially one of his skills would be useful on the frontlines but would not change the outcome in any major way. But, a Paladin rooting out unholy corruption like in Vindabon and now possibly here, that can have much greater effects.”
Well, it seemed they weren’t even trying to be subtle anymore. Cole didn’t know if this had been Argentarii’s plan all along or if he was simply adapting to events. Either way, the court of Baiuvar knew they were suspect, and a sword, or in this case, halberd, was dangling overhead waiting to fall at any sign of corruption.
Still smiling Argentarii interlaced his fingers together and leaned forward on the table. “As for your thoughts about the Paladin being, naive, I don’t even need to hear them. If anyone here is naive, I think it's those holding the notion this war is some external affair that merely drains resources and offers nothing. The solstice ball proved how far the vampire’s reach is, and if you confer with the Fifth Temple I think you’d find some concerning reports about discoveries related to leech infiltration and subversion.”
Prince Heinrich frowned. “I’d like to know more about these discoveries, Minister.”
Bowing his head, Argentairi replied. “Of course, I can have my contact deliver them first thing tomorrow. But even without the threat of spies and traitors, the vampire war is something everyone here should be concerned about.”
Glancing about as if he considering who was in the room, Argentarii spoke softer. “Let me be frank. Supporting the Southern Marches is costly but an important investment for every member of the League. Alidonar’s defense is not some ‘bottomless well’ of coin and soldiers that never sees results as some would put it. That the war rages in the Marches is the return on the investment. By keeping the vampires away from our heartlands, and busy fighting us over the land between the Alidon and Tya rivers we ensure the majority of the League is safe from them. A safety that is only compromised when the Southern Marches aren’t supported or enemy actors slip deeper into our lands and spread poison. Preventing either of those things is why Paladin Cole and I are here.”
As much as Cole loathed the grim arithmetic in Argentarii’s words he knew them to be true. He also tried not to think about how skillfully the spymaster used his own mistakes with Dietrich and Scapin to help justify Cole’s presence and the negotiating power that gave Argentarii. Silently, Cole almost hoped there really was a traitor in Lowanburg, that would legitimize him being here and help him feel less like a prop. Tracing that thought, Cole digested the last few tense moments of the meeting and found himself no closer to finding any evidence of supernatural corruption, despite his desire to find some. Looking at Countess Lutisha and barely listening to her retort to Argentarii, Cole found the idea of people acting with such cut-throat self-interest without a vampire’s insidious whispers disturbing.
Before the spymaster or over-dressed countess could escalate their argument, a rumbling growl filled the chamber. On one knee before his lions, Heinrich pet them both and said. “It is getting late, and my familiars need to be fed. We will adjourn for tonight, so tempers may cool and new ideas may percolate.”
Standing before his throne Heinrich made a gesture of dismissal. “Your arguments have all been heard, and the throne acknowledges your efforts. Let us continue this tomorrow at say… third bell, so other work can be done in the day.”
As one, the chamber’s occupants rose and bowed to the Prince as servants filed in to bring coats and other accoutrement. Heinrich and his lions disappeared through another door, leaving his court to exchange pleasantries and not-so-pleasantries. Watching more of the room shuffle away from them and towards the main exit, Cole leaned down to Argentarii. “Did I cause too many problems?”
Shrugging one shoulder the spy replied. “I think the right amount, but that waits to be seen. Again, I must thank you for agreeing to this, Paladin Cole.”
Grunting, Cole caught sight of a footman approaching him, practically buried in his great black cloak. “It needs to be done. Do we think the Elector’s court has been subverted?”
Raising a hand for silence, Argentarii said. “We’ll discuss that more in private.”
Nodding, Cole took his cloak from the servant and to his surprise found a note passed into his hand. Slipping his garment on, the Paladin used
the flap of cloth to hide reading what he’d been given.
‘Stay after the meeting, there is a matter that must be discussed.’
Instead of a signature, the note contained a stamp mark depicting a knight riding a lion. Sucking in his breath, Cole looked towards the now empty throne and the great royal seal hanging from the wall over it. While the stamp was certainly simplified, it was the same symbol. Deftly handing Argentarii the note, Cole watched as more of the nobles filed out, including Countess Lutisha, surrounded by a gaggle of her faction members.
Returning the scrap of paper, Argentarii chuckled. “Well, that might just be your answer. Good luck, I’ll meet you back at the Temple when your business is done.”
Eyebrows raised, Cole hissed. “You aren’t staying?”
Shrugging, Argentarii started moving towards the door. “I wasn’t invited.”
Letting out a sigh, Cole reached into a pocket and felt the heavy metal disk kept there. Compressing Requiem down into such a state made him leery of damaging the enchanted halberd, but for times like this, the risk was worth it. He didn’t think he was about to walk into a trap, but having the option to fight his way free made Cole feel much better.
As the last of the crowd of nobles and courtiers dispersed, a footman approached Cole, the same who'd brought him his cloak and the note. Nodding to the Paladin, the servant gestured for him to follow. To Cole’s surprise, he was led to the door Prince Heinrich used and brought into a long wood-paneled hallway. Striding after the servant, Cole asked. “May I know what this is about?”
The footman didn’t answer and Cole grit his teeth, hand closed about Requiem’s compressed form. Before Cole’s doubts could become true concerns the servant stopped in front of a door and knocked. A low rumbling noise came from the chamber and the footman opened the door. A well-furnished reading room waited beyond, high bookshelves and beautiful paintings covered the walls while two plush chairs sat before a roaring fireplace. Standing before the fireplace was Prince Heinrich, his lions curled at his feet, basking in the heat.
Not turning from the flames, the Elector-Prince said. “You really know how to piss people off don’t you.”
Blinking in surprise, Cole slowly replied. “I prefer to speak the truth as I see it, some do not appreciate that.”
That got a very unprincely snicker from Heinrich. “Oh they don’t, the miserable bastards would spend half an hour debating, deflecting, and dissembling if you asked them what color the sky is.”
Finally looking at Cole, Heinrich quirked his lip in a smirk. “Do my words surprise you, Paladin? They shouldn’t, it’s tiring to put on the regal performance, and pointless now that we’re away from my ‘loyal court.”
Slumping down, so his back was against the fireplace’s screen, the Prince settled among his lions who issued rumbling protests at being forced to move. Rubbing the belly of a beast larger than even Cole, the Prince said. “If it were up to me I’d feed half of them to Jorg and Yacob here, but I fear they’d get terribly fat after such a poor meal. It’s what my ancestors used to do, you know? Unleashing our familiars upon vassals who disappointed us. But times change, and such practices are frowned upon these days.”
An annoyed scoff came from one of the chairs, revealing an occupant Cole couldn’t see. In a soft voice dripping with annoyance, the formerly hidden girl said. “Must you posture like this even with a holy warrior? I’m certain he’s faced much more fearsome threats than two overfed felines who spend their days pampered by you.”
Rolling his eyes, Heinrich gestured for Cole to come closer and then pointed at the chair now that he could see its occupant. “My sister Cleo, who is being very rude for someone whose brother is doing her a favor.”
Frightfully petite with long silver-blond hair, the young Duchess of Lowanburg, sat primly with a large book on her lap and a pair of thick spectacles perched on her nose. Staring up at Cole, with rich amber eyes, Cleo reminded him of a slightly malnourished owl; an effect not helped by the thick grey blanket wrapped around her.
Unsure of himself, Cole offered a bow to both royal siblings and asked. “For what reason have you called me?”
Setting a marker in her book, Cleo shut it and let out a tired sigh. “We have a problem, the sort you are qualified to solve.”
Thinking on this and deciding he was already literally in the lion’s den, Cole pushed. “Why can’t this problem be taken to your city’s priests? I’m certain at least one Hierophant of Master Time could be found in Lowanburg. Anything I can do, they’d surely match.”
The siblings exchanged looks and Heinrich replied. “Even priests aren’t immune to politics, and we need this matter to stay subtle. My court is a nest of not-very-bright vipers who’d cut off their nose to spite their face. If any whiff of scandal or impropriety got out, they’d use it to tear me down and put one of my half-wit cousins on the throne as a puppet. But this is where you come in, as it’s not every day we get a qualified outsider with a strong motivation to earn my favor.”
Realizing he wasn’t just in the lion’s den but neck deep in the serpent’s pit as well, Cole nodded slowly. “I will help the best I can, but will warn you my duty to my god will come first over anything else.”
Heinrich smiled. “That’s what I was hoping for. I’d prefer this matter stay between my house and Master Time, or in this case his chosen representative.”
Crossing his arms before him, Cole asked. “Well, what seems to be the issue.”
Cleo started to absently chew on a stand of her hair. “Our family, the House of Conrad has a long history of collecting… curios from across the world. Recently, I have been trying to tighten the belt if you will, and sell some of the family collections more extraneous pieces. In the process, I found something that raises some unfortunate implications about one of our ancestors.”
Cutting his sister off, Heinrich flatly explained. “We have a stolen harpsichord whose presence all but confirms our great-grandfather murdered an entire branch of the family.”
Cole winced, he could understand why the noble siblings were eager to not have this matter see the light of day. Aristocrats had long memories and a few generations wasn’t nearly enough time to blunt the impact of such a scandal. So, politely as he could, Cole asked the obvious question. “Why haven’t you disposed of the evidence?”
Leaning backward so he was nestled among his lions, Heinrich sighed. “Because the damn thing has killed or maimed all those who’ve tried.”
Slowly nodding, Cole started to get the full painting as Cleo elaborated. “The harpsichord isn’t just evidence of the crime, it’s the murder weapon. We have a haunted harpsichord, a violently haunted harpsichord. And my dear brother and I would like you to take care of it for us.”
Cole rolled his shoulders, guessing he wouldn’t be getting much sleep tonight. “What do you know about the wraith bound to it?”
That got a bitter laugh from Heinrich. “Well, for one thing, it’s an elephant.”
Pausing mid-stretch, Cole sputtered. “I’m sorry, what?”