9.7

Paul had come to welcome very few things since their arrival in his late Mother’s Demesne. But having a dedicated dove master (with apprentices!) was one of them.

Someone to keep the birds organized and clear on which would go to what demesne.

Someone who could see to their care and feeding.

The rearing and training of the chicks.

That could see to the missives and simply warn him or even organize a caravan to exchange new birds when a particular flock of communication was dwindling?

That was something that Paul very much appreciated.

Also as much as his wife was a wonderful and kind creature he appreciated being able to eat something other than traveler stew with little more than salt, butter and garden herbs for seasons on end.

He could not say that the food in Valasect was not good. But the fact is his wife loved pottage perhaps a bit too much. It had not even quite been a full year with her and Paul was feeling like he was going to insist that they serve something that didn't come in a pot at least twice a season. Preferably every few days.

Sure the flavors were subtly different through the year.

But a man needed to enjoy his teeth while he had them!

This and getting used to sleeping in something more like a nest than a proper bed were the trials of a wyrm’s husband.

Along with the work that he found himself having to take up. Namely his efforts as an amateur birdmaster. Paul was astounded by the near lack. It was only the foresight of Jewel’s captain that there were even any birds at all in Valasect.

His new wife was unfathomably kind and gentle, incredibly perceptive to the subtlest nuances in people, devoured histories and books with an intensity only matched by her capacity to consume stew! But there were basic skills that Paul was often astounded by her inexperience in. Simple unawareness of the manner one established and maintained control over a realm that shocked Paul.

He had tutors make sure he understood the care, training and health of doves by the time he was ten!

But Jewel had been almost completely unaware of the specifics of it beyond the absolute minimum. That one had to keep them fed, housed and trained and that they had to be exchanged in pairs between those parties you wished to converse with.

If he had not met her Father and Mother he’d think they were simple minded provincials for all the things Jewel did not know.

And yet Jewel thought much the same of him.

She was fierce and noble about the role of a lord and their responsibility to their subjects. It was inspiring and beautiful in a way.

Still Paul was definitely going to see if the local bird keepers had any promising apprentices or journeymen available to take up the mantle in Valasect. After having even a half season of not needing to feed and clean the shit from the bird shack himself?

No Paul was not giving that up no matter how much his wife complained how soft he was.

There was admirable character and there was the smell of bird guano.

And although Jewel’s love of baths meant it was never a terribly long lasting condition he was going to avoid it entirely if possible.

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“Lord Count Nádasdy! A message just arrived from the capital. It has the High King’s seal!”

Speaking of the apprentices of the Dove Master

He nodded to the boy (who was really hardly younger than Paul himself!) and took the tiny scroll, outer seal unbroken, then dismissed the boy (man?).

As the countess’ husband it was acceptable for him to break this seal at least. The casing coming loose and the slender traveling scroll straining as he unfurled it between his fingers. Messages by bird always had a limit of weight.

As such the text of it was both diminutive and also of a scribed form that thankfully Jewel was fully educated in.

It had honestly surprised Paul the first time that his dragon wife had penned such tiny lines in ink upon a piece of vellum thinner across than the clawed fingers which wielded the quill. That she also did it with a speed and accuracy that put his own penmanship to shame?

Well there was a reason besides his wife’s sheer size that he did not overly begrudge her position he was soft handed and unskilled.

It was hard to argue when you saw a wyrm handle a bone needle with that skill and speed.

Although his shock had gotten a surprised laugh the first time he saw it.

Jewel had been upset that night.

His wife’s massive coils and terrifying and prominent loops of muscle running down a torso heavier than a plow team of oxen were also a factor in his respect of her opinion.

Just not the only one.

And after he apologized she did in fact know how to stitch and repair his clothes better than his seamstress Edita.

Thank the stars that the woman approved of Jewel and thought it was proper for a wife to mend her husband’s clothing. The old bat was so vicious with her apprentices you could hear it down the halls.

Probably the spinning circles Jewel insisted on attending even now.

Paul double checked the markings on the dove scroll one third time and sighed. He could hold onto this until his wife finished with her hour of whatever women’s work she was doing today.

They all needed their relaxation in these arduous days. Stars and divines know Paul wanted more moments of peace. But checking the angle of the sun through the windows of the office that had once been his Mother’s there was only so long he could wait.

He glanced back down and sighed heavily.

Knuckling at his brow and then his tired eye sockets.

Jewel ensured he got enough sleep. But even so half a day of litigation and judgment, another two hours to go over missives, messages and confer with the judgements the rest of the adhoc justice council had made?

With the two meals that he attended with Jewel and then the hour they had to themselves in the evening?

Plus bathing, grooming, proper dressing for his station?

Paul, Count Consort of Valasect, Viznove and now Kaeketeh sighed and took his own few moments of peace. Simply reading over the same short line of abbreviated letters. Each marked as small and fine as they could be.

It was technically the usual Cantoran letters most older peasants could read.

Anyone trusted to work with merchants or sit on a council.

Any trade master could read.

But lords, messengers, criers and scribes had to be able to manage with the dense, near illegible scratches of dove scrolls.

It was a mark of pride to be able to convey entire speeches in as scant few letters as possible.

To know the meaning by the nature of the speaker.

However the meaning behind this scroll was not overly obfuscated or abbreviated.

It stood plainly and clearly for Paul.

The High King had called.

Jewel’s presence was requested in the Capital of Cantor Reborn.

To supplicate and affirm the vows as her place in the Realm.

As Countess of Viznove.

Next Year, no later than debt’s season.

Paul sighed.

He could hold onto the message for a bit longer.

Let Jewel have her peace for now.