3.1

Jewel hoped that the Countess Elizabeth Bathory lived and reigned for a very long time. Not because she wished well for the woman.

No Jewel absolutely detested her.

She wished her good health and vigor and many long years because the longer that the Countess reigned Jewel could avoid having to either move to Kaeketeh or finding some lord to manage it in her stead.

The city was full of people, and all the smells and noise and thievery she was coming to understand came with such.

And it was not made any better by the arrival of the High King and his entourage in full parade.

At least Thurzó and his family had ridden with Jewel and hers a full day ahead of the King and his party.

It meant they only had to deal with a relatively minor parade for their arrival (but the citizens of Kaeketeh had made a festival of it clear into midtown anyway).

The pageantry on display now felt stifling even from a distance.

Jewel could see the High King’s parade making its way ever closer from her place on the battlements of the wall fortress that separated Midtown Kaeketeh from the opulence of the Countess’ keep.

Thurzó had joined her, the first moment the two of them had gotten alone since his arrival in Rochford.

Well alone but for ‘Gem’ and Smithson.

Who had taken the duties of ‘wetnurse’ for Jewel’s ‘daughter’ for much of the journey so far.

But honestly, anything said by Jewel’s long time friend in letters could be said in front of her Squire.

And to everyone else ‘Gem’ was a senseless babe.

To Jewel? She still was not sure but at least it hardly mattered so far. What one saw the other would remember eventually.

Maybe?

She was not always certain.

“I’m glad that Imre found the courage to finally deal with you Lady Jewel. I was worried.”

Jewel shook her head and could still barely believe how well such a token worked for the child. Had she ever been so easily soothed?

Well maybe with her Copper Pail.

But that was different.

“I hope it won’t put you too out of coin to supply him with Saffron Count György.”

Which got a friendly chuckle from him and a shuffle at his side. Jewel wondered when he was going to bring out his gift.

Which had been obvious three days into his visit to Rochford.

Jewel’s nose already told her what it was. But not its contents.

“Oh it’s a trifle, now I must apologize for not having gotten this to you sooner. But there was always something, and with Imre’s fear of you-”

Jewel waved his concern off with her foreclaw and a light flex of a wing, shaking her head to fully dismiss his worries.

“It’s alright, I knew you were trying. I could smell you worrying at it like a dog on a bone for days. So tell me, what book have you found that will actually add to the oh so much praised Rochford Library?”

Another chuckle, an honest one too. Just like Jewel strived for, like Father seemed able to inspire so effortlessly.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

He presented the leather-bound book. It was not Rochford Leather or vellum, that was for sure.

And its nature spoke of very long years kept dry and warm amidst dust in some room upon a wooden shelf followed by brief travel in parcels of oiled skins, before again once more resting in darkness and the dry, until again finding its way in carefully stored luggage once more.

And then of course György’s hands.

“I present to you, Lady Jewel the Shining Wyrm of Viznove, with this gift. The travels of Pythra of Veracules. One of only three texts I know of which contain a first hand account of discourse with a Tyrant wyrm.”

Jewel blinked at that then gently took the book from her friend and ever so gently shifted onto her haunches so she could turn the pages and peruse.

She’d only ever read references to this work.

The original Pythra of Veracules, the so-called Wanderer, had died centuries before the tyrant war.

There had been copies made of it by scribes in what places had gotten hold of it and numerous translations besides of course, but even a copy was a precious treasure.

Jewel gently closed the cover and gestured it towards Smithson to take before she settled back to all fours.

Dipping her head low to her friend.

“Thank you, I’ll make sure it is settled as the treasure it is in Rochford’s library.”

But György shook his head.

“You can put it there if you wish for safe keeping Lady Jewel, but this is not a gift to your Father or your family. I am giving this to you, my friend, the heir to the house of Bathory and the County of Viznove. The Shining Wyrm.”

Jewel stilled a moment at that.

She met his eye, that was a massive gift. Easily in the range of value to the right hands exceeding a dozen Knight’s Mark.

“Count György ! Th-”

Her friend silenced Jewel with a glare. He was standing straighter, taking on all the bearing of a Count equal to her Liege.

“You are the heir to the County of Viznove. This is a gift of no consequence for your station. But I know you yearn to know anything of those like you that have come before. As anyone with sense should. Take the gift as your own, from a friend, an ally and a fellow vassal under the High King Mathias.”

He turned away from her to watch the procession as it made its way out of the poorer district that Jewel had come to learn some called the ‘gate town’ of Kaeketeh.

Jewel was stunned, so perplexed that both her mouths were left open.

One of which found itself suddenly filled with dried jerky that triggered a reflexive bite, chew and swallow from the relatively tiny jaws of ‘Gem’.

Jewel, shaken from her confusion by sudden feeding, turned also to watch as the first of the King’s fully armored entourage crossed onto the bridge joining Gatetown to Midtown.

The festival for the citizens was not clear into the courtyard of the wall fortress like they had for Jewel’s Victory Triumph.

Instead, the Countess had her footmen lined up awaiting the king’s arrival, across the courtyard of the wall fortress over the last connecting bridge and then along the approach to Bathory’s own keep.

Where she was waiting like a proper vassal for her liege.

Not yet bowing, for she bowed to no one but the High King.

And Jewel thought, with a grim spark of her wyrmflame over her tongue, only when that suited the Countess herself.

Jewel hated the vicious woman standing there at the end of finely armored and dressed footmen.

The countess was flanked on her right by Father and on her left by the near black crimson robed figure of her court wizard Jaksa the Red.

The Shining Wyrm of Viznove vehemently wished the Countess Bathory of Viznove a very long reign indeed.