Seven Scenes in Spring

73rd Day of Spring

767 Karloman’s Peace

“My friend!” the man exclaimed nervously, spotting Ekkehard. Forcing a broad, toothy smile, he added insincerely, “What a pleasure to see you again.”

Ekkehard sighed, the weight of his vexation palpable in the long, heavy wave of breath that escaped him. He cocked his head slowly and deliberately, his eyes narrowing with a mix of annoyance and resignation. “You do always seem so delighted to see me, Hott,” Ekkehard replied dryly, his tone not so subtly laced with sarcasm.

“Nonsense!” Hott shouted, his eyes darting around nervously, as if desperate to conceive of a fresh excuse. “I always enjoy the company of a reasonable man such as yourself. I only wish I had time for you today.” He moved frantically, the clatter of pottery echoing as he picked up a small vase from his shelf and tucked it under his arm. Then he started towards the street.

“Sadly,” he continued, “I have a delivery here for a prestigious client and must be off. I’m already late you see.”

“Porfinn!” Ekkehard called out, irritated.

Obstructing Hott's path, Porfinn stepped out from behind the curtain of the market stall. Porfinn, the young hatchet-wielding man who had fought alongside Ekkehard against Haraldr, had grown under Ekkehard’s mentorship. His muscles, honed from rigorous training, were broad making him appear an imposing barrier.

Hott, in contrast, was wretched. Skinny with bony arms and an untrustworthy face, his slimy demeanour matched by the overpowering intoxication of excessively applied perfumes. Even the man’s tone was conniving and unscrupulous. Ekkehard hated coming to see the pottery trader in the back ends of the market sector, as he knew every visit would be full of excuses and deceitful fabrications.

“They will have to wait,” Ekkehard said, stepping closer. “Let’s not drag this out. You know why I’m here.”

Ekkehard didn’t enjoy this element of his new duties. If it weren’t for people like Hott, serving Vedast wouldn’t have been a problem, but there were people like Hott, and they necessitated a darker conduct that made him uncomfortable. Yet, it had to be done, and Ekkehard was more than capable of exhibiting brute force when called upon.

Hott slithered side to side, testing to see if he could pass Porfinn. Realising he couldn’t, he slinked back to Ekkehard. For a moment, Hott looked to his feet, and Ekkehard glimpsed his agitated expression. When Hott looked up again, his broad smile returned.

“Oh, of course,” Hott said, overly jovial. “How silly of me. Vedast must think I’m a complete dolt, forgetful as I can be. What is it I owe him again?”

“Three payments,” Ekkehard said bluntly.

“Three!” Hott gasped theatrically, failing to show genuine shock. “All at once?”

“Yes,” Ekkehard replied through gritted teeth. Why the man insisted on these theatrics every visit, Ekkehard did not know. It was the same routine he had put on fourteen days ago during their last encounter.

“How can that be?” Hott asked. “Surely things haven’t gotten so bad. Didn’t Vedast delay some of my payments? Times are hard, you know, and he is a reasonable man.”

Ekkehard stepped up to Hott, bringing them face to face. Ekkehard’s taller, more muscular frame dwarfed the man, causing him to shrink back into the shadow of his own stall, out of the sight of passersby. “He did,” Ekkehard confirmed. “That was for your winter payments. Winter is hard on many, and Vedast is understanding and generous. He allowed you to delay your winter payments until the end of your agreement.

“But Hott,” Ekkehard leaned in closer, his tone threatening, “it’s not winter anymore and Vedast hasn’t seen a single coin from you. He is not a happy man.”

Hott’s stall was well-located in a bustling plaza, the air filled with the shouts of hawkers, the clink of coins exchanging hands, and the fragrant aroma of street food tempting the steady stream of merchants, artisans, and peasants. Despite the prime location, Hott's business wasn’t thriving as it should have been.

Before approaching, Ekkehard had watched from a distance. Despite a steady flow of customers, Hott failed to make a single sale. His weaselly nature and untrustworthiness were driving people away. Ekkehard suspected Hott genuinely struggled to gather the funds to repay Vedast; however, Vedast’s generous loan had enabled Hott to lease this prime spot in the first place. It wasn’t Vedast’s fault Hott couldn’t capitalise on it.

“Yes, well, erm,” Hott began to stammer, “if I could have just a little more time.”

“More time?” Ekkehard echoed, unimpressed.

“Yes,” Hott confirmed. “So I might reorganise some finances, sell off excess stock. Perhaps a few days?”

“You have until morning,” Ekkehard said without hesitation. “And if you don’t have the money by then,” he paused, letting the threat hang in the air, leaning in close with narrowed eyes. Then he switched to a friendlier, more musical tone. “I’ll take your entire stock and you’ll still owe Vedast half.”

This was a trick he had learned from Vedast, a sudden shift between hostility and pleasantry that unsettled people. It was the unhinged crime lord that was feared the most, after all. The terrified expression on Hott’s face informed Ekkehard the trick had worked.

“Understood?” Ekkehard asked, giving Hott a slight slap on the arm and a big grin.

“Yes,” Hott answered uncharacteristically direct. Ekkehard had finally, mercifully, frightened the theatrics out of him.

“Good,” Ekkehard replied. “We’ll be off then.” He nodded to Porfinn, who moved from his post to follow as they left Hott’s stall.

As they walked away, Ekkehard remembered a minor reprimand from Vedast. Though his new paymaster was typically pleased with Ekkehard’s performance as an enforcer, he had mentioned the need to be more forthright with threats against slyer customers. Grimacing, Ekkehard forced himself to stop and turned back to Hott.

“Oh, and Hott!” Ekkehard called. The weaselly merchant peered meekly around the corner of his stall. “If you’re not here when I come by tomorrow, Vedast will kill you.” Ekkehard frowned as Hott’s face turned a paler shade. Then he nodded, turned back around, and continued on his way.

“Fucking hells, Ekkehard,” Porfinn said as they navigated the market streets. “That was pretty cold.”

“Was it?” Ekkehard asked, genuinely surprised.

“Yeah, I think so. I bet the snivelling little shit is vomiting his guts out after that,” Porfinn said.

“What makes you say that? I only said we would kill him. He must hear worse from angry customers every day.”

“Yeah, but it's the way you said it,” Porfinn explained. “Gave me shivers. Could have softened it a little.”

Ekkehard stopped to contemplate Porfinn’s words. He didn’t like being feared; it made him uneasy. Everything he had been raised to believe under the Faith had taught him to be more understanding of his fellow man, but he was beginning to recognise its necessity. Some people simply didn’t respond to anything else. Hott was a perfect example. He would exploit any generosity shown to him. He was a leech, and Vedast should never have loaned him a single coin. Fear was the only thing that would ever see Hott’s debts repaid.

“I think that man is the product of a world being too soft for too long, don’t you think?” Ekkehard asked his apprentice rhetorically. Porfinn did not answer. Ekkehard shrugged and continued on to his next duty.

By midday, Ekkehard had collected repayments from all of Vedast’s customers and returned to Vedast’s home for delivery. Having lived in the place for three seasons now, he had memorised the house’s chaotic layout and navigated its blind corridors and topsy-turvy levels expertly, until he reached Vedast’s office. To his surprise, it was empty.

At this time of day, Vedast was usually supervising the cutting of meats or tending to his ledgers. If he wasn’t here, he must be in the cutting room.

“He’s in the study,” a voice called from behind, as if reading his thoughts. Ekkehard turned to see Svanhildr lingering in the corridor, busy with her household duties. “He and Florentin are going over something. My husband seems rather excited about it. Whatever it is.”

“Really?” Ekkehard replied, less surprised than he once would have been. “Neither of them has mentioned anything exciting to me.” He struggled to keep the irritation from his voice. As much as he appreciated Vedast’s kindness, the man had continually fawned over Florentin despite Ekkehard’s repeated protests. To Ekkehard’s agitation, it appeared he and Vedast would have to have words again.

Svanhildr shrugged. “You’ll have to go and find out,” she said with a hint of mischief. “Oh, and Auriana is in the garden. She’s been looking for you.”

“Thank you, madam,” Ekkehard said with a respectful bow. “I will see her once I have settled the day’s affairs with your husband.” Svanhildr smiled and went about her business.

Ekkehard made his way to the study. Alfa, Vedast’s personal bodyguard, leaned against the door. He nodded politely and stepped aside, allowing Ekkehard to enter. The man had treated Ekkehard with naught but respect since the fall of Haraldr, like many of those in Vedast’s employ. Inside, Florentin sat at one of the room’s three writing desks, several parchments and abacuses spread across it. Florentin was busily working through sums while Vedast hovered over his shoulder, a diligent gaze monitoring Florentin’s work.

“And so, you see, those more affordable winter payments, bolstered by the increases in harvest, result in a much steadier stream of income and an increase in annual turnover,” Florentin said, his tone both excited and smug. It reminded Ekkehard of the times Florentin would show off his tutors' markings to his mother and grandfather, back when he was still a child.

“And that all adds up as well, doesn’t it?” Vedast said, rubbing his chin as he looked over the parchments. “I have to say, lad, this is fine work,” he continued, grinning broadly at Florentin. “There might be a place for you here after all.”

“What adds up?” Ekkehard asked as he entered the room. His tone wasn’t aggressive, but the hint of displeasure was clear.

“Well, I guess your brother does,” Vedast said, looking at Ekkehard. Vedast had the decency to appear guilty and apologetic, an expression he rarely wore for any man, and Ekkehard appreciated it. “He has found a way to increase our profits by some margin,” Vedast explained.

“Variable rates,” Florentin said with boyish excitement, oblivious to the room’s changing atmosphere. “The Excellency does it, lowering trade taxes in winter, raising them at harvest. Why shouldn’t we do the same?”

“And Vedast has offered you a job, has he?” Ekkehard asked, still looking at the butcher.

“Not exactly,” Vedast answered.

“Well, we have talked,” Florentin began, looking up at Vedast, then stopped, finally noticing the tension. Florentin was smart, Ekkehard knew that, and it was natural for Vedast to want to make use of that, but every time he raised Florentin’s hopes like this, he put Ekkehard in an undesirable position. Once more, he had to smash his brother’s dreams to keep him safe. Something he had to do all too often these days.

“Florentin, if I could speak with you in the other room,” Ekkehard said. Though phrased as a request, his brother knew it was a command.

“No need,” Vedast said. “The study is yours. I’ll be in my office when you’re done.” Vedast made to leave, and Ekkehard stepped aside respectfully. Vedast shot Ekkehard a regretful look as he exited. Once he was gone, Ekkehard turned his attention to his younger brother.

“What exactly is the problem?” Florentin spat before Ekkehard could get a word out. Folding his arms, he leant back in his wooden chair and eyed Ekkehard sourly.

Ekkehard didn’t react at first. Instead, he stepped away from the door into the light streaming through the open windows. The scent of fresh meats from the butcher’s cutting room mixed with the spring air and the must of old parchment and ink. Ekkehard looked around, delaying the conversation, fully aware Florentin wouldn’t make it easy. The boy was too smart for his own good and Ekkehard wished his little brother could take his wisdom at face value, just this once.

“I’ve told you before, Flor, I don’t want you getting involved in this stuff,” Ekkehard said.

“And why not?” Florentin shot back. “It’s good enough for you and Audomar.”

“Me and Audomar are doing what has to be done so you can have a better life,” Ekkehard explained.

He and Florentin had clashed over this many times. Ekkehard couldn’t understand why Florentin wanted to settle for this kind of life. They were nobles, not criminals; it was beneath them. Ekkehard had compromised his morals for his family so they wouldn’t have to, and Florentin was always so eager to throw their sacrifice away.

“I know it’s taking time to find something for you,” Ekkehard continued, looking down at his feet. “But you must be patient. We found something for Gerwald, and we will find a place for you too. Something more like our old life, like the life you deserve.”

Florentin sighed, shaking his head. “Tell me, brother,” Florentin said, “what life did I really have before?”

“What do you mean?” Ekkehard asked, offended. They had lived a good life at the manor. A respectful, godly life.

“I was the sixth son of a minor noble,” Florentin said each word slowly, emphasising their weight. “Do you know what that meant? It meant there was nothing for me to inherit. There would have been no room left for the likes of me and Gerwald after mother passed and Audomar’s family grew.”

Ekkehard wanted to protest but couldn’t think of an argument. “That isn’t true,” was all Ekkehard could think to say.

“Yes, it is,” Florentin shot back without a pause, “my future was that of a glorified farmhand, and you know it. Here, however,” Florentin continued, gesturing around Vedast’s home, “I could be the master of coin for a growing city-wide operation. I could have a position of prominence and respect. I could earn enough working for Vedast that in a decade, I could purchase merchant rights and open my own store. I could do that, if you let me, but you insist on getting in the way. You do nothing but put me down and trap me.”

The words raced through Ekkehard’s mind. As the family's second son, Ekkehard had always been assured a place at the manor. Even if Audomar had more children, it would never be so many that he would be put out, but for the first time, he realised the pressure his younger siblings would have been under to relocate.

“I get that you want us to maintain some semblance of who we were, brother,” Florentin’s tone softened, “but honestly, I am happy here, with this.”

Happy, Ekkehard thought. With being a criminal’s bookkeeper. How his brother could be happy with that he couldn’t understand. Yet, Florentin was right, his prospects were far brighter in Vedast’s employ than they had been back on the estate. It was painful for Ekkehard to admit it and he couldn’t quite bring himself to acknowledge it.

“I need to square the day’s books with Vedast. We will talk later,” Ekkehard said and exited the room, headed for Vedast’s office.

“Ah, Ekkehard,” Vedast greeted him as Ekkehard entered the office. “Let me start by apologising. I should have come to you before speaking with Florentin.” Alfa, as usual, stood sentinel behind Vedast, who was sat at his desk.

“Never mind that,” Ekkehard said, waving Vedast’s apology away. “You were just trying to help. It’s all you’ve ever done for my family. I am grateful.”

The statement was true, even if Ekkehard was annoyed at Vedast, he was always grateful. His conversation with Florentin had left Ekkehard feeling unwelcomely guilty and arrogant, and he had to admit, he did blame Vedast for that a little. Vedast was his employer and his friend, however, and there was no good reason to start a feud over a battle he had already lost.

“Oh,” Vedast said, seemingly surprised. “Well then, to business. How did the morning go?”

“Simple enough,” Ekkehard said, pulling several pouches of coins from his coat pockets and placing them on Vedast’s desk.

“Anyone give you any trouble?” Vedast asked.

“Just Hott,” Ekkehard answered.

“As expected,” Vedast sighed. “What did you do with him?”

“I’ve given him until the morning,” Ekkehard informed Vedast. “If he doesn’t pay up by then, I’ll take his stall.”

“Very good,” Vedast said. He picked up one of the coin bags, dangled it between two fingers, then dropped it back among the others with a thud and jingle. “Looks like we are all settled then. On to other business. We need to talk about your brother.”

“As I said, no need. Florentin is free to make his own choices,” Ekkehard said, raising a hand to end the conversation quickly. He couldn’t quite look at Vedast, worried the man would see the suppressed anger behind his eyes.

“Not that brother, I’m afraid,” Vedast said.

Ekkehard cocked his head at Vedast in brief confusion, then sighed in realisation. “Audomar?” he asked.

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“Yes,” Vedast confirmed.

“He’s been out all night,” Alfa chimed in, delivering uncomfortable specifics on Vedast’s behalf, as he always did.

“Where is he now?” Ekkehard asked with a heavy sigh.

“He’s at the Blue Lady,” another voice said from behind Ekkehard. He turned to see Emich, Vedast’s long-haired scout, leaning against the back wall of the room beside the doorway. The man had a natural ability to fade into the background, and Ekkehard hadn’t noticed him when he arrived. “The owner has asked if we can do something about him.”

Ekkehard sighed more heavily. “I’ll go get him,” he told Vedast.

“Dreux is waiting for you there already,” Vedast told him.

“Do you need an extra pair of hands?” Emich asked as Ekkehard was leaving the office.

“Wouldn’t hurt.”

Emich fell in behind Ekkehard as he made his way through Vedast’s labyrinthine home. “Just need to talk to the wife,” Ekkehard said, heading to the private garden at the back of the building. “I hear she’s looking for me.”

As Ekkehard passed through the doorway into Vedast’s garden, he heard a strange low sound that was suspiciously like a bird call. Looking to the sky, he glimpsed a fluttering blur of brown and white. Then, the fleeting visage of the bird was gone, vanishing behind the roofs of neighbouring buildings.

Auriana was sitting once more under the shade of the garden pavilion, admiring the freshly bloomed flowers that crowned the reflecting pool. "Was that an owl?" Ekkehard asked her as he looked from the sky to her and back again.

"I’m sorry?" Auriana asked, trying to follow Ekkehard’s gaze but finding nothing.

Although it was spring, the north was still far cooler than the south, and the Reubkes dressed warmly. Auriana had wrapped herself in a single-piece dress in a lilac shade. Its body was made of wool and wrapped around her like a bow, while pale frills of silk adorned the design like a visible aura of fragrance.

"I could have sworn that was an owl," Ekkehard claimed. "I didn’t think they got them this far north. I haven’t seen one since we left home." He placed both hands on his hips as he continued to scan the sky for the creature. "Hey, remember that one that built a nest above our window?" Ekkehard asked Auriana. "Cheldric used to stare wide-eyed at the thing whenever it perched on the ledge. He was fascinated." Ekkehard smiled at the bittersweet memory of his son.

"I," Auriana began to speak hesitantly. Ekkehard turned to face her, a hint of concern in his expression. She smiled softly at him. "Yes," she said in a sweet tone, "I remember." Ekkehard returned her smile.

"Svanhildr said you were looking for me," Ekkehard relayed.

"I was," she confirmed. Ekkehard waited for her to expand, but she remained silent.

Realising his wife wasn’t going to expand, Ekkehard said, "Audomar's causing trouble at the Blue Lady," he pointed a thumb over his shoulder as he did, "Vedast has asked me to go sort him out."

"Ah," Auriana said, "I suppose you best had then."

"Yeah, I better. Before he does something stupid."

Auriana contemplated something for a moment, and then with a deep breath, she got to her feet and said, "I’ll come with you."

"Are you sure?" Ekkehard asked, "he will probably be drunk."

"When isn’t he?" Auriana replied as she brushed a soft hand against Ekkehard’s cheek and rested it there. She smiled at him again. Ekkehard felt a strange warmth as she did. She seemed somehow different today. Happier, more nurturing than he had seen in her for a long time. Then she tapped her hand against his cheek in a little slap. "Besides, you boys need a woman in these situations, to ensure nothing gets out of hand, so let’s get going."

"Oh, hello Emich," Auriana said, now addressing the long-haired man waiting in the doorway of the house.

"Hello, madam," Emich said respectfully with a bowed head. Auriana smiled at him politely.

"Well then," Auriana said, "lead the way." Ekkehard nodded and turned to leave the house, leading her towards the Blue Lady.

The Blue Lady of the Secret Sauna was a formerly exclusive, upscale inn and tavern on the Market Sector's main promenade. Initially serving nobility, it now welcomed lower classes due to waning interest. Despite this shift, it remained more lavishly adorned than the average city tavern.

A stone barrier topped with spiked iron railings enclosed the garden, where the wealthy once enjoyed their privacy while poorer onlookers stared with marvel and envy. The tavern itself was square in shape and built as a tall cascading tower, with multiple floors each sporting enclosed private balconies. Its stone walls were crisp pearly white and its lacquered clay roof tiles were sea blue. The eaves of its double-hipped roofs were embellished with oceanic carvings. The very top of the tower sported a pyramid top; an ornament of a dancing woman dressed in ribbons pirouetting upon its peak.

Iron gates, that once would have been guarded and closed, hung open. Dreux waited outside, resting against a supporting pillar. As Ekkehard entered the spacious garden filled with patrons dining and drinking, Dreux nodded his greeting and fell in behind him.

A short set of wooden stairs led to a roofed porch with double doors depicting a dancing woman in blue. Inside, the main room featured luxurious dark wood, intricately engraved bars and booths, fine linen cushions, and silk curtains in scarlet hues with golden embroidery. The interior was less crowded than the garden, and Ekkehard quickly saw why.

Audomar slumped over the main bar, barely balanced on his wooden stool. Dozens of clay wine cups surrounded him, with several broken, their shards scattered on the floor. Spills of rich red wine and stew pooled at the base of the stool. Despite his drooping arm, Audomar clutched the neck of a large earthenware amphora. As Ekkehard approached, an oppressive scent of stale stew and alcohol, sharply contrasting with the refined surroundings, assaulted his senses.

Ekkehard pitied his brother, whose prophecy had proven true. While he and the rest of their family had found new purpose in the city, Audomar had not. Struggling daily with his grief, Audomar couldn’t let go of those he had lost and sought solace in the bottom of cups. Ekkehard wished he could help, but he was preoccupied with building their new life, and his brother did little to help himself, much to Ekkehard’s disdain.

He placed his hand on Audomar’s shoulder with an aggressive grunt. “Piss off!” Audomar spat, not bothering to look at who had handled him.

“It’s me, brother,” Ekkehard said in a tone equally concerned and irritated.

Audomar lifted his head off the topside of the bar and looked back at Ekkehard. “So it is,” he slurred, “now piss off.” Audomar turned his back on Ekkehard and, realising he was still holding his bottle, filled one of the empty cups in front of him.

The tavern's owner now crept from a back room and took his place behind the bar. He shot Ekkehard a worried but frustrated look.

Before Audomar could bring the fresh cup of wine up to his lips, Ekkehard snatched it from him and slid the cup down to the owner, managing not to spill a single drop. “You’ve had enough, Audomar,” he said sternly, leaning on the bar beside his brother. “Time to go home.”

We don’t have a home,” Audomar muttered as he attempted to fill another cup. Before he could, Ekkehard wrestled the bottle from his brother's hands. Audomar snapped, got to his feet, and pushed Ekkehard. He staggered but kept hold of the amphora. He handed it to Emich before turning his attention back to the red face of Audomar.

“Yes, we do,” Ekkehard said to his brother, holding his hands up for peace, “one where our family has been safe for some time. It’s time you came to accept that.”

“Fuck you, Ekkehard,” Audomar spat.

Ekkehard could see his brother’s rancour was up, and decided he needed to de-escalate the situation. “Brother…” he started to say, but Audomar was already charging.

His drunkenness made him slow and predictable. Ekkehard kicked his brother in the chest with a high, flat foot, casting him back against the bar, and he collapsed beside it, knocking over a pair of stools.

He looked a complete mess, his hair unkempt and wild, his beard long and savage, knotted with food and spittle. There was not even a shred of the enigmatic commander he had once been left in him.

“Are you done?” Ekkehard asked, exasperated.

Audomar went from on the ground to rushing him in a flash. Had Ekkehard not reacted, he would have been launched across the bar, and his brother would have pinned him. In Audomar’s state, he would no doubt have beaten Ekkehard bloody. Ekkehard had reacted, however, sidestepping his brother’s charge, sending him tumbling with a trip of the leg. Audomar landed flat in the middle of the tavern floor.

Ekkehard exhaled in frustration, pushing his hair up with one hand as he attempted to maintain his own cool. It had been a day of irritations, and his temper was fraying.

“Get him up,” Ekkehard ordered Dreux and Emich. Each grabbed one of Audomar’s arms and pulled him to his feet. Audomar wrestled with them, attempting to charge Ekkehard again. Dreux and Emich struggled to hold him back. Neither of the men were weak, but Audomar had the natural advantage of being a tall and well-fed noble. His mass was simply greater than what the average peasant possessed.

Watching his brother’s furious attempts to fight him angered Ekkehard further. After everything Ekkehard had done for this man. After everything this man failed to do for himself. How dare he hate Ekkehard for his troubles. How dare his brother put that on him. Ekkehard began to step forward, ready to strike, when Auriana barred his way.

She kept her back to Ekkehard, blocking Audomar’s view of him. She softly stepped toward him and placed a hand on his chest, forcing him to look her in the eyes. He kept trying to fight free of his captors at first but slowly, he began to stop struggling, his heavy, furious breathing becoming slightly softer.

“You need rest,” Auriana whispered to him. As she spoke the words, Audomar’s shoulders dropped, tears welling in his eyes. “Let these kind gentlemen take you home,” Auriana commanded Audomar, and he dropped his head shamefully. Seconds later, he nodded in acquiescence and slowly allowed Dreux and Emich to lead him out of the tavern.

“Thank you,” Dreux whispered to Auriana as they went, Emich passing her the amphora of wine. Auriana turned to Ekkehard, and she smiled at him, somewhat smugly.

His own anger evaporated in an instant, replaced by awe, and he smiled back at her, both confounded by and appreciative of her ability to manage Audomar. He shook his head, and the two joined one another at the bar. Ekkehard handed a small pouch of coins to the owner waiting on the other side. “For your trouble,” he said.

Auriana reached behind the bar and picked up two clean clay wine cups. “We will be taking a booth,” she told the owner and gestured toward one in the corner of the tavern. Ekkehard smiled and shrugged, letting his wife lead the way.

Ekkehard and his wife discussed the day's events, their thoughts on the tavern’s décor, and their appreciation for Audomar’s good taste in wine. It was a pleasant and engaging conversation full of wonderful mundanity.

“So,” Auriana said after about half an hour’s conversation, “as you know, there was something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh no,” Ekkehard said, only half hearing his wife, his vision focused on the man who had just entered the tavern.

“What’s wrong?” Auriana asked, looking over her shoulder.

A bulky, heavily armoured man had entered the Blue Lady. He wore the thick iron coat armour typical of the city guard but with extra layers of embellishment, and the purple cloak on his back was made from fine wool.

“Captain Cnut!” Ekkehard called over to the head of the city guard with feigned enthusiasm, “if you’re looking for my brother, I am afraid he’s already been taken care of.” Cnut looked around the tavern suspiciously, pulling a curious face before he walked over to Auriana and Ekkehard’s booth.

“And why would I be looking for your brother?” the stout-voiced captain asked.

Ekkehard laughed a little and smiled at the captain. “I couldn’t possibly imagine,” he said.

The captain eyed him curiously but smiled in return. Ekkehard had always maintained a reasonable relationship with the city guards. They knew of Vedast’s operations and the illegality of them but were equally grateful for the removal of Haraldr as anyone else. Thus, as long as the criminality was kept to a reasonable level, the guards were happy to look the other way, Cnut included. That didn’t mean visits from the captain were ever pleasant, however, and Ekkehard suspected a new headache was headed his way.

“How are you, Cnut?” Auriana asked the man, breaking any tension that may have existed, no matter how minor. What Ekkehard found odd, however, was that she addressed him by his first name. He wasn’t aware that Auriana had ever even met the captain before. “Are you well?” she added.

“Very well, madam,” Cnut replied, bowing to Auriana with deep reverence. “Very well indeed, and you?”

“More than well,” Auriana replied. There was an awkward silence for a moment as Cnut’s eyes darted between the pair. Then, to Ekkehard’s surprise, he turned his full attention to Auriana, ignoring him.

“I hear your brother-in-law has been taken in by the masons?” Cnut said. Ekkehard raised his eyebrows at that statement, giving his wife a surprised look. She, however, seemed to think the conversation was perfectly normal.

“He has,” Auriana replied, “Gerwald started with them about half a cycle ago.”

“You must be very proud,” Cnut said. He turned and placed a hand on Ekkehard’s shoulder, as if they were old friends.

“I am,” Ekkehard replied, somewhat stuttering, still flabbergasted by the exchange, “they were happy to take him. He’s a little older than the average apprentice but he’s strong and enthusiastic. Such a combination is rare to find.”

“Indeed it is, indeed it is,” Cnut replied. He still lingered awkwardly at the edge of the table. Ekkehard wasn’t used to interactions with the guard captain lasting this long. Yet, Auriana seemed perfectly comfortable as Cnut’s attention returned to her.

“And what about your boy?” she asked, “I hear he has an apprenticeship of his own.”

How well does my wife know this man? Ekkehard thought to himself as he heard the question.

“Yes, yes,” Cnut said, his face beaming with a broad smile, “taken on by the fletchers. Can you imagine, my boy, an artisan?”

“You must be so happy,” Auriana said, “I bet Ute was ecstatic at the news.” Ekkehard was blown away. She knew his wife’s name.

“Yes, she was, she really was,” Cnut confirmed. “We couldn’t be prouder.”

“That’s lovely,” Auriana told him. Then the awkward silence returned. Ekkehard was shaking his head in amazement at his wife.

“Well,” Cnut said, opening his arms to them, “I will leave you two be. Good to see you again, madam, I hope you have a lovely day.”

“You too,” Auriana bade the captain farewell, and Cnut took his leave.

Ekkehard waited a moment for Cnut to be out of earshot and then turned back to Auriana. “When did you get on such personal terms with the Captain of the Guard?” he asked with a laugh.

“Oh, we are good friends,” Auriana replied coyly, “didn’t you know that?”

“No,” Ekkehard said, bewildered by the revelation. “How did that happen?”

“Ah, well, do you know our dear captain likes to gamble?” Auriana asked.

“I had heard such, yes,” Ekkehard answered, “How do you know that though?”

“Well, I heard that the captain made a pretty poor wager at the end of the harvest and lost a huge amount of coin, leaving him and his family in a really bad place going into winter,” Auriana began to explain.

“Right, go on, I didn’t know that,” Ekkehard told her.

“Well, being Captain of the Guard, Cnut had too much pride to use the ration halls. It doesn’t look good for a man in his position to be in such trouble.” She was right, of course, Ekkehard concluded to himself. The ridicule and shame that would have been aimed at Cnut would have eroded his authority in the city. “So,” Auriana continued, “I took it upon myself to help him. I’d collect food parcels for him and his family and deliver them in secret to their home. I got to know his family quite well as a result.”

“I had no idea,” Ekkehard said, shaking his head in amazement.

“Well,” Auriana said, turning her head and taking a sip of her wine. She looked at him through the corner of her eyes as she continued, “I have to do something while you're out and about, you know. Svanhildr, gods bless her, does too good a job taking care of the house. There simply isn’t much for me to do. So, I have to find things to do. I thought it might be useful for you to have an in with the captain, so I found one.” She paused and Ekkehard admired the broad smile enlightening her beguiling face. “Mind you, that will change soon, I’m going to have far less free time on my hands,” she added.

“What do you mean?” Ekkehard asked.

Her smile twitched ever so slightly wider before she turned her gaze away from him, her expression demure and mischievous.

“When do you think we could secure a residence of our own?” Auriana asked, changing the subject. Ekkehard raised an eyebrow. What is my wife up to? he wondered.

“Erm, I hadn’t really given it much thought,” Ekkehard admitted. “There have been so many other things to focus on. Why? Are you unhappy where we are?”

“Oh, not at all,” Auriana said, shaking her head. “Vedast and his family are lovely. But I’ve seen some nice places on the edge of the markets, and I think the three of us would be a little more comfortable there.”

“The three of us?” Ekkehard asked, wondering which of his brothers had managed to weasel their way into Auriana’s plans. “Is it Gerwald who wants his roof paid for, or Flor?”

“Not one of your brothers, no,” Auriana replied, biting her lip.

“Gisla then,” Ekkehard said, nodding. “I suppose it’s only right we take her in until we find her a good husband.”

“Not your sister either,” Auriana said, looking Ekkehard directly in the eyes, unable to contain her smile.

“Are you saying what I think you are saying?”

“I’m with child,” Auriana confirmed.

“I, well,” Ekkehard stammered, unable to form words.

He had no idea. Nothing had prepared him for this. He was still focused on securing his family’s future, finding jobs for his brothers, watching out for his sister, and maintaining his position with Vedast. He spent so much time wrestling with the morality of his duties that he hadn’t thought about children. Now, here it was, taking shape before him, dispelling any doubts about his worthiness. As if the gods themselves sought to restore what had been taken from him. His eyes began to well up. He couldn’t be any more grateful.

“Oh!” Auriana said, reaching out and taking his hand. “This news upsets you?”

“Not at all,” Ekkehard said immediately. “This is the best news. I couldn’t be happier. You are sure?”

“Yes,” Auriana answered, nodding, her own eyes welling. “Yes, I am sure. I was sceptical at the start of the cycle, but I’ve seen the soothsayer; she confirmed it. We are going to have a baby.”

Ekkehard stood up and made his way around to Auriana’s side of the booth. They embraced, and he kissed her. Images of Cheldric’s smile flashed in Ekkehard’s mind as he imagined his son reborn, held in the loving embrace of his two parents, Auriana and him. Together, his imagined family sheltered from the golden rays of a welcoming sun, beneath the protective branches of a cherry blossom tree.

“I love you,” Ekkehard told his wife. She returned the words in kind.

After their celebrations, Ekkehard escorted his wife back to Vedast’s home, where they shared their news. Svanhildr prepared food and wine, and fond exchanges were shared over supper. As evening drew in, Ekkehard decided to head out on his own, leaving Svanhildr, Pyra, and Gisla to fawn over his wife.

He headed to the city’s main temple seeking the scholar who had counselled him many times since the Winter Ceremony. When he arrived, Abbot Zhu was nearing the end of his final sermon for the day. Ekkehard took his usual seat at the back of the temple and waited.

The temple was a more typical religious chapel, covered in opulent dedications. Marble pillars were draped with fine banners of bright colours. Paintings, murals, and stained glass displays of religious scenes hung along the walls. Light shone brightly from large open windows, illuminating the expansive interior and bathing the wooden pews in evening light. Scented candles, censers, and incense filled the room with floral scents. Vases, sculptures, and ornaments were displayed grandly in every corner. The altar at the front, sitting upon a dais, was covered in flowers and wreathed in plant life, celebrating Spring’s term of ascendancy. It was equal parts gallery, garden, and sanctuary.

When the sermon ended, Abbot Zhu spoke with those who lingered. Only once all were satisfied did he make his way to Ekkehard. This was not a slight. Ekkehard knew the abbot's longest discussions were saved for him, and it was out of politeness to all that he saved Ekkehard for last.

“Ah, my infrequent child,” the abbot greeted him. “What is on our minds today?”

Ekkehard looked at the old man, catching a glimpse of his thoughtful brown eyes beneath his hood. Ekkehard considered his question carefully. He never answered the abbot in a hurry. That would be rude. He gave every question asked by the priest, no matter how mundane, careful thought, because he knew the abbot would weigh his every word.

What am I here for?

The news he had received was welcome and joyful. Am I here to give thanks? No, that wasn’t it. He had no need to give thanks. The gods had rewarded his endurance of the last year’s sufferings, but there was no need to be thankful for that which was earned, and earned it he had.

Reassurance maybe? Ekkehard wondered.

Maybe he wanted to know the gods would protect this child better than they had his first. Or perhaps he was here to negotiate the price of that protection.

Or maybe I am just afraid, he considered. His body went chill at the notion.

He had agonised over the question of why the gods had punished his family in the first place so many times since his arrival in the city that his mind ached even at the first glimmers of the thought. He was an apostate, and despite his trials, that was still true. Now he was worse, he was in the employ of a crime lord and a usurer, something the gods did not look upon kindly. Worse, he was a liar. Every time he came to see the abbot he was reminded of that fact. He had still yet to reveal his true identity, the true story of how he came to the city, to the old man.

Maybe I should tell him about everything?

No. That was a foolish idea. The abbot was a priest. He would not abide the presence of an apostate, let alone one declared a heretic. He liked the man, considered him a friend, but the law would require the man to turn him in. Ekkehard could not do that. Not to himself and not to his family. Certainly not to his unborn child.

“I think I’m here for clarity, Teacher,” Ekkehard finally told the abbot.

“Ah, clarity,” Abbot Zhu echoed. “Now that is a lofty desire. Many men believe they possess it, but few have proven ownership. Tell me, what is unclear to you?”

“The difference between law and morality,” Ekkehard said.

“A question regularly debated by many philosophers,” the abbot said. “And not a subject on which any true conclusion has ever been reached.”

“Our laws come from Emperors,” Ekkehard explained. “They are the descendants of Karloman. They carry the blood of the King of Heaven. Therefore, their laws come from Heaven. They are divine will, are they not? So, law and morality are one and the same?”

“If one believes such, then I suppose that could be so,” the abbot replied.

“You are an Abbot, a servant of the religion, a scholar of Doctrine. Is that not what you believe?” Ekkehard asked. The priest turned away and thought for a moment. Ekkehard sensed conflict in the man and wondered if his question was inappropriate. Before he could retract it, the abbot answered.

“I believe the day Our Saviour died for us was the day humanity’s true connection to the heavens was severed,” the abbot explained. “When Karloman walked this earth, he could tell us directly the will of Heaven, but he is gone now. Since then, we have relied on the wisdom of his descendants. They, however, are not he.”

“They carry the blood of the Spring. Surely that makes their wisdom, and therefore their laws, divine, does it not?”

“It is true, they share the blood of a god,” the priest said. “But after nearly eight hundred years of breeding with mortality, you may ask, how much of Our Father still runs through their veins? It seems to me, they have far more of the fallibility of man flowing through them than they do divinity, don’t you think?”

“So, you are saying the law may not reflect the will of Heaven then, aren’t you, Teacher?” Ekkehard asked.

“I am saying that humanity’s own selfishness often blinds them to the guidance of Heaven,” Abbot Zhu clarified. “And the royal family is very human indeed.”

Ekkehard thought on the priest's words. It made sense. Eight centuries is a long time, and Heaven had not sent any messengers since. Who was to say that the law and Heaven's will were really intertwined? He worked for a criminal, but in doing so, saved many from torture and slavery. Is that not divine work?

“Tell me, Teacher,” Ekkehard said, ready to ask the question his thoughts were grappling with, “if that is the case, how do I know if I am living a godly life?”

“Ah, now that is a question, Ekkehard,” the abbot said. “And the answer is simple. You never will.”