Listening to my reasoning, Finnan fell silent. For a moment, he only stared at me, his expression grave, and I didn't bother to respond. Then, with a long, exasperated sigh, he finally spoke.
"Think again, lord," he said. "It's a men's game. Don't drag a woman into needless trouble and regret it later. You know you can't protect her against what we could face."
"You have a point there," I replied, respecting his opinion.
"Lady Isolde doesn't have any need to be involved," he pressed. "You and I could manage the dirt on our own. It may not be as difficult as we think."
"It may not be or it may be," I said, meeting his concerned gaze. "But you are missing the point, Finnan. How do we not involve the lady when she is already involved?"
Isolde had turned against her father for protection. And if I acted on that knowledge, she was getting inadvertently involved. She knew too much for her own good.
“How is she involved…” he asked, his brows raised in confusion. “… by being the Marquess’ daughter?”
“Most beloved daughter, as you said.” I corrected. “Her existence as a whole is the involvement you fear so much. But what if we use that to our advantage?”
“You mean to use her against her own father?” he mumbled, quickly catching onto my plan.
“In a few days she would be forced to return and with her goes his only weakness Tristan has lent us.” I leaned towards Finnan, resting my hand on the armrest. “Even if we act then and somehow got some dirt, there will be nothing stopping him from not thinking twice before disproving it all. Or worse, have us silenced for good.”
Finnan’s eyes went wide, learning the scope of the consequences he might not have thought earlier.
“You understand what I'm saying, right?” I nudged him, urging him to catch up.
“… If we don’t act now, there might be no point in acting later,” he concluded, taking a deep breath. “But will a daughter testify against her father who raised her with love and care like none other?”
“Before that, will Harwyn be satisfied with mere words as evidence to launch an investigation against a trusted ally?” I responded with a question of my own, testing every possible scenario before I revealed my cards.
“He…” Finnan paused briefly, unable to meet my gaze. “He might, if you, as his brother, present it to him. But his advisors would never allow it. It would be too risky of a gamble without any rewards, they would say.”
I thought so. I reclined back, now staring at the clear sky. Relying on others to make life-changing decisions was always futile. They would never comprehend the situation when time was right, but would scramble to do something when everything was against them. Countless losing wars were a testament to that.
“If that happens, word will inevitably get out, and one way or another, we will be exposed,” I contemplated the ramifications, not just for me, but also for Finnan. “Isolde will be punished for going against her father, and we might be put on trial for conspiracy against allies, right?”
“…Yes,” Finnan lowered his head, lost in thought. “We need something concrete, something that neither the advisors nor the Marquess could object to or deny. Something that will force their hands.”
“And how do we get it?” I questioned, letting him come up with a way. If better, I would roll with it, if worse, I would propose mine.
“We start digging, lord,” Finnan declared, his determination shining through. “Dig through his past, present, and future like never before.”
“Good! We are on the right track.” I nodded, a small smile on my lips. “But just you and I won’t be enough to dig through it all. We need hands, trusted hands.” Besides uncovering the dirt, I needed security, not just for Isolde, but for me also, when the Marquess’ patience runs out with just letters.
“I can arrange a few, lord,” Finnan added. “But… There is no guarantee of their loyalty… In moments like this where it is absolutely needed.”
“What about them?” I pointed at the men in the distance, few of whom were now returning to their barracks, done with their exercises.
“They are trusted, but won’t be loyal to our cause unless Lord Eduart or Lord Harwyn orders them to,” he explained. “If we use their expertise through deception or any other means, it is bound to backfire.”
“Hmm…” I leaned forward, thinking of a solution. And within seconds, I had found one. It was the age-old answer to every damn problem.
“How is the criminal underworld in this city?” I asked, shifting the conversation to a different subject entirely.
Finnan looked puzzled, but after a moment's pause, he responded. “Controlled… but still thriving!”
“Perfect!” I snapped my fingers, using the cane to push myself up onto my feet. “Then we have our people ready.” It was time to go back to my old routes, where my life truly began.
“Lord, what are you…”
“Prepare a list, Finnan.” I ordered. “Prominent criminals, gangs, thieves, bandits… I want their details – names, family, pets… anything you can find.”
“What would you do with them?” He stood up, his confusion evident.
“You know… To have a nice chat!”
***
The sun had long set, and the carriage far behind us. With every step, I nudged the cane to support myself as I walked into the cold, yet bustling streets of the city known as Seiren. Finnan strolled beside me; his sole attention focused on a paper he held before his face. I was certain the paper was obstructing his view, yet he navigated through the crowd effortlessly. It was as if he could see through it. Although, to be fair, most stepped aside when they saw us approaching, their hushed murmurs accompanying our passage.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
Listening to the incoherent speech and nodding in acknowledgment of the crowd's respect for what seemed like a thousand times, we finally reached our destination: a modest building nestled between many others of similar appearance. The sign hanging over the entrance read "The Rusting Hearth," the name for the establishment which the folks here commonly referred to as an "Inn."
As I drew closer to the door, my eyes were drawn to another sign in the middle. A vivid image of a dog was carved on the wooden plate, over which a red cross was painted—indicating that no dogs were allowed.
"Our guy has a dog?" I queried Finnan, who was busy folding the paper.
"A greyhound," he answered calmly, glancing around before tucking the paper into his breast pocket.
"Interesting," I nodded, turning the knob.
Outside, the laughter of men and women echoed, a lively symphony of their conversations filling the air. However, as I entered the room filled with warmth, the noises abruptly hushed. While a few individuals continued their loud chatter, even they fell silent as they noticed the rest of the room had gone quiet, heads turning in my direction.
"Lord…" The sound of a man hurrying over from behind the counter reached my ears, panic evident in his eyes. However, he came to an abrupt stop as I raised my hand, and almost simultaneously, the entire inn rose to their feet, now bowing in deference.
Quiet the authority, huh… I mused inwardly, watching the immediate submission to the presence that noble blood seemed to command.
"Enjoy the night, everyone!" I announced, stepping fully inside. Following my lead, Finnan entered as well. "And let me do the same, alright?"
"…Yes, lord," the bartender, a man in his late sixties with a fairly ordinary face, nodded in agreement. Yet, the patrons remained standing, and so did he.
"Sit down!" I ordered, and they immediately took their seats, while the bartender rushed back to his original position.
He then instructed one of the many women working there to prepare a table closer to the fireplace. Once the table was ready, I took my seat immediately, with Finnan helping me remove my coat and standing beside me. The whole room remained silent, except for the occasional sounds of boots and plates moving.
Soon, a girl no older than seventeen or eighteen approached us, her forced grin obvious as she held a wooden tray just below her chin. She stood silently, awaiting my order, and as I observed her, I couldn't help but feel a tinge of annoyance. Her hesitation, the fear emanating from the others – while it may have been appropriate on the surface, it shouldn't have dulled the mood they had moments ago. It didn't sit well with me.
"Quit that," I gestured at her compulsory smile. She immediately stopped, looking frightened. I sighed before clarifying, "I'm not going to hurt you, kid, or any of you," I spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear, their attention fixed on me either way. "Just go on with your lives. Cheer up… and you know what, drinks on me today. Drink as much as you like."
Despite my generous offer, they still maintained their silence. Frowning at their lack of acceptance, I swept my gaze through the room until it landed on a skinny individual in the corner, about to raise his mug. Our eyes met, and he quickly raised the mug over his head, spilling the contents in the process.
He hesitated for a moment before he gathered his courage and shouted, "To… Lord Arwan!"
Within moments, the entire inn erupted into cheers, the name of their lord resonating through the air. The enthusiasm may have seemed fake at best, but it was better than nothing.
They will get used to it. I thought to myself, now donning a gentle smile, and shifting my gaze to the girl. "Bring me the best item you have," I instructed her, and after a quick nod, she hurried away on her toes.
Observing her disappear behind the counter, I turned my attention to Finnan. "How long?"
"Not long," he replied, checking his pocket watch. "He should be in... about ten minutes."
"We wait then," I remarked, leaning back in the chair, taking in the curious glances from the people around. They must be wondering why the ruler's younger brother, escorted only by a butler, was in such a seemingly secluded establishment, waiting for food of all things.
Wish I could tell them I was here for a man wanted all over the kingdom, who was now hiding in Seiren. If they searched hard enough, he could be found here, but I wouldn’t let him be found unless under my command.
The girl returned with a steaming silver plate and a matching glass on the wooden tray. She carefully placed them on the table, alongside a pair of cutlery knife and fork, before stepping back a few feet. Savoring the strong aroma, I gave her a nod of appreciation and shifted my attention to the plate. It held a beautifully roasted fish accompanied by raw green plants, a sprinkling of brown salt, and a few lemon slices. The glass contained the wine I had hoped for.
As I reached for the knife, I was interrupted by Finnan. “Wait a moment, lord,” he said, addressing the girl. “Why didn’t you prepare the fish?” His voice was a bit louder than necessary, drawing unwarranted attention.
“I… I… did not know, lord,” she replied, her nervousness palpable.
“Use your brain next time… Wait, there will be no next time.” Finnan scoffed, attempting to reach for my knife, but I pulled my hand back.
“If she didn’t know, then let her learn,” I intervened with a glare. “We have time.”
“Lord!” Finnan immediately stepped back, and I gestured for the girl to come closer.
“Help me prepare this,” I requested with a smile. I had time to waste, so why not spend it learning something useful?
“… Y-es, lord.” She gave a frightful nod and inched closer. “You… squeeze the lemon and…”
“Like this,” I picked up the lemon and gradually squeezed it over the fish, but a loud bark in the distance halted my fingers.
“Hey! No animals allow…” The bartender shouted, but his voice trailed off. “Oh…”
The girl flinched back, and I heard heavy footsteps approaching, the floorboards creaking. I raised my head and found myself facing a tall, burly man peering down at me. He had a hood covering his head, obscuring his face, but the sound of his gritting teeth warned me that he wasn’t happy.
Meanwhile, the black greyhound beside him started growling and barking, its attention fixed solely on me as if it recognized a long-lost enemy. The noise was bearable for a moment, but it soon became intolerable. I clicked my tongue in frustration and leaving the half-squeezed lemon, I grabbed the knife.
“Will you please shut that animal of yours?” I ordered with a scowl, pointing the tableware at the dog.
“…” The man only twisted his head in response, the light reflecting off his eyeballs making him look like a phantom.
“I said, shut that thing of yours.” I pressed, testing his limits.
“He is not just a thing,” the tall man replied, his voice harsh and groggy. "He has a name, just like you."
"Do I look like I give a fuck about that name?" I groaned first, then sighed, trying to exaggerate my annoyance. "Finnan, shut this bitch up, please. Kill it or whatever, I don't care. Just get it out of my sight."
"Yes, lord." Cracking his knuckles, Finnan stepped forward, and the man brandished a small blade out of thin air.
"Take one more step and it won't end well for any of you," he cried.
"And they call Arwan impulsive." I spoke under my breath, sneering at the scene. "Anyway," I raised my voice to the max, capturing everyone's attention, even the dog fell silent. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Malcolm Godberd. You seem to be in a good mood today."