Seventh Oath -- Lord and Castle

Chapter Sixty-Eight: ‘Of measured worth...’

Hector’s mouth hung open as he looked at the Queen. He wasn’t sure he heard her right. He couldn’t have.

‘Whoa, whoa,’ said Voreese. ‘You’re giving away castles? Can we have one, too?’

“Voreese, no,” said Roman. “Hector’s one thing, but we definitely don’t need or want anything from the Queen.”

“Are you certain?” said Helen. “I have no qualms about granting you lordship over lands of your own.”

Roman bowed his head forward a little. “That’s very generous, but it’d be problematic for me if people found out that I was working with the government. In the circles I frequent, that kind of information is liable to ruin a man’s reputation.”

“I see,” she said. “Am I to expect lobbying requests for favors from you, then?”

Roman leaned back in his chair and shook his head. “It’s not like I have leverage over you or anything. I’d just appreciate if you and I could maintain a certain amicability moving forward. Having a friend in your position would be nice for me, and likewise, having a friend in my position would be nice for you.”

The Queen gave a nod.

‘Fuck that, I want a castle!’ said Voreese.

Roman rolled his eyes. “Voreese, shut up.”

‘No, you idiot! If she’s just giving shit away, then I want Warrenhold!’

Now Roman just seemed confused. “Why? And what is that, even?”

‘Ugh! Because--!’ She cut herself off and looked at Mehlsanz and Garovel. ‘Wait, am I the only one who knows?’

The other two reapers exchanged shrugs.

“Warrenhold?” said the Queen. “Are you referring to the Gray Warren?”

‘Yeah! The fortress in Gray Rock! No one’s lived there in ages, right? So it currently belongs to the Crown, right?’

“Yes, that is correct.”

‘Great! Then we’ll take it!’

“No, we won’t, Voreese! I can’t accept land from the Queen! It’ll ruin everything! Why do you even care so much?!”

Voreese grumbled and looked around the table. Her hollow eyes fell upon Hector. ‘Hector. Sweetie. And Garovel. You handsome devil. Choose Warrenhold. So we can visit you. It’ll be delightful.’

‘Perhaps you could explain what is so special about this Warrenhold place before we decide,’ said Garovel.

Voreese looked over her audience. ‘Well, it’s old as shit! In a good way! Lots of history, very defensible, and tons of space underground.’ She leveled a stare at Garovel. ‘Trust me on this one. You’ll thank me.’

A silent pause followed, and Hector was left to wonder what the non-servants at the table must be thinking of this conversation, watching the Queen and Roman talk to their imaginary friends. However, Hector noticed that most of them weren’t even watching, really, instead taken to enjoying the feast laid before them. He realized he hadn’t even started eating yet, despite being utterly famished, so he decided to dig in as well.

‘Okay,’ said Garovel. ‘We’ll take Warrenhold. If Her Majesty is actually offering it to us, that is.’

The Queen tilted her head. “Are you certain? Perhaps you should visit it before deciding. Unless my memory is mistaken, the Gray Warren was forced to endure an earthquake some years ago. You may not come to find it in the most desirable state.”

‘Eh, we’ll make do,’ said Garovel. ‘No need to draw things out. We’ll take up less of your time this way.’

Helen eyed the two reapers a moment, perhaps skeptical, but then said, “Very well. You will have the papers by the week’s end.” She turned to Hector. “Do you find that agreeable?”

“Oh, um, sure... but, uh...” He faltered again under everyone’s gaze.

“Yes?” said the Queen, as they all waited for him.

“S-sorry, it’s just... maybe I’m missing something, but, uh...” His fists clenched under the table as he forced the rest of the words out. “Wouldn’t it be a problem for, uh, Your Highness, if you give such an incredible gift to... well, me? I mean, I’m pretty hated by... ah, everyone...”

“Once the public knows the truth, that will not be a problem,” said Helen. “I intend to address the matter of your innocence in front of the press very soon. In fact, I was hoping you might accompany me when I do.”

‘Pfft, are you kidding?’ said Garovel. ‘You want Hector to appear on television? I thought you wanted to reward him, not torture him.’

“He has done it before, has he not?” said Helen. “He threatened the town of Harold to facilitate its evacuation, no?”

‘That was a recording, and it still required about fifty takes.’

“Ah--Garovel’s right,” said Hector. “I really don’t--please don’t ask me to--I just--agh...”

“Very well,” said the Queen. “I understand. Regardless, it will require time. I can order the police and the military to stop hunting you easily enough, but I would ask that you take a well-deserved respite while we attempt to win the public over.”

‘Mm, dunno about that,’ said Garovel. ‘Hector’s pretty gung-ho when it comes to protecting innocent people.’

Hector gave the reaper a look. ‘You say that like you’re any different.’

‘He can be so stubborn,’ Garovel went on. ‘I don’t think an inconvenience of reputation would be enough to stop him from going out and looking for trouble.’

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Her Highness smiled warmly and nodded. “Yes, well, protecting people would not be a problem, but it would be helpful if you could avoid taking the blame for crimes you did not commit.”

‘There go my plans for the weekend,’ said Garovel.

‘How do you intend to tell the public, exactly?’ asked Voreese.

‘Carefully,’ said Mehlsanz. ‘Most of the blame will fall upon Luther as the orchestrator of everything. Unfortunately, we can’t really name Abolish as the instigator unless we want to give them more reason to return and silence us.’

“They may try to do that, anyway,” said Harper, who’d thus far only listened quietly as he ate.

‘We’re aware,’ said Mehlsanz. ‘We were hoping you would stay here in Atreya for a while longer.’

“That’s fine with me,” said Harper. “I don’t have any pressing business elsewhere at the moment, but you should know, I could be called away at any time. Out there in the world, if something big enough happens, my superiors might well contact me. And that’s not going to be the kind of thing that I can just ignore.”

“I understand and thank you for all your help,” said the Queen. “If there is anything you need, please do not hesitate to ask.”

Harper laughed. “Oh, do I get a castle, too?”

“If you desire one, yes.”

“Ha, that’s okay. My whole reason for being here is to protect you, so I’d rather stay wherever you do, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course. You are more than welcome here.”

King William took the opportunity to break into the conversation. “Where are you from, Mr. Norez?”

“Oh, nowhere,” said Harper. “Or everywhere, depending on how you look at it. I don’t really identify with any particular place anymore. I travel too much for that. This is my first time in Atreya, though. I’m liking it so far.”

“Now that the genocidal maniacs are gone, you mean,” said Roman.

“That is definitely a step up, yes,” said Harper. He looked at the King again. “Ah, but my apologies, Your Highness. I suppose that’s not a very satisfying answer to your question, is it? I can at least say that I was born in Jesbol, though I don’t have many memories from there. My parents escaped when the Jungle Wars began spreading.”

“The Jungle Wars?” said William. “That was some sixty years ago, and yet you do not look a day over thirty.”

“I moisturize.”

The Queen laughed faintly and turned to her husband. “Reapers may choose to prevent their servants from aging, dear.”

“There’s that, too,” said Harper. “But I’m pretty sure it’s the moisturizing. I mean, just look at my skin.”

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

It was raining, but that was no rare thing, nor was it even that heavy. Already at the age of twelve, Marcos Elroy was accustomed to much more than this meager drizzle. There wasn’t even any flooding; he could still see the grass beneath the playground, or more accurately, beneath the platform on which the playground stood, on which the entire city stood.

Sometimes, the rain was so strong, it was like living on the sea. Or at least, he thought it was. He’d never been to the sea.

Playing basketball in his bulky blue raincoat wasn’t the easiest thing, but he knew that his mother would get mad at him again if she found out he took it off, and he didn’t want her to forbid him from coming out here to play. After all, his school had an indoor court and so did the youth club near the estate. But he didn’t have any friends in those places.

The past few times, he’d felt stupid for being the only one wearing a raincoat, so this time, he’d brought enough for everyone. Now the court bustled with a group of flailing, child-shaped blueberries.

For some reason, they tried to return the coats to him after the game was over, and Marcos had to refuse them. He thought it was obvious that they were gifts, so he didn’t understand why his friends seemed so reluctant. He ended up just running away before they could put up any more of a fuss. Besides, he didn’t want to carry them all the way back home. Carrying them all the way here had been a big enough pain, already.

The journey back required a good bit of legwork, and Marcos had always been taught not to run when the ground was so wet, so he resorted to a brisk walk as soon as he was out of sight.

It was sometimes easy to forget that Aguarey stood on a platform. It had asphalt roads and concrete walkways and grassy parks. The only real reminders were the perforated drains that riddled the ground and the madega trees, which all had their own holes to stand in. They were already massive things to look at with their sprawling canopies of wispy teal leaves, but to then realize that below the platform, the madegas all had another five meters of trunk, made them seem all the more impressive. But of course, they were older than Aguarey itself, so perhaps that was only to be expected.

When Marcos arrived at the gatehouse, the pair of guards made him pull back his hood before smiling and welcoming him home. Nico and Jorem were their names, and they didn’t look very friendly, but that was probably the whole idea. They were always nice to him, at least.

Marcos proceeded up to the Main House, stopping briefly under the overhang to wipe his feet and shake some of the water off his coat. He pushed through the tall doors, hung his coat up, and pulled his boots off. Dinner was soon to arrive, he knew, but until then, he had time to kill.

He found Cisco in the center hall--or rather, Cisco found him, slipping up behind him and pinning both his arms behind his back, holding him in place. “Hey, brat. Can you get out of this yet?”

“Stop!”

“Come on. Get out of it.”

Marcos thrashed fruitlessly. “I can’t!”

“Yes, you can. I showed you how.”

“I can’t! Just let me go!”

“No.”

“If you don’t let me go, I’ll yell!”

Cisco released him with a shove, and Marcos nearly fell over. “You’re pathetic.”

“And you’re an ass!”

“Whatever. Go cry to Ma if you want.” Cisco walked away.

Marcos scowled and rubbed his sore shoulders. He had four siblings, and he definitely hated Cisco the most. Cisco was the second-oldest, having four years on him, but Gema was never around anymore, so Cisco still got to play the role of eldest.

He decided to head up to his corner room on the third floor, but he encountered his father on the stairwell first. Marcos had never known a sterner face than that of his father. The man’s jawline and cheek bones were harsh enough to cut with. The stone gray irises and bushy black eyebrows were both traits that he had passed on to all of his children, even the girls.

This man, Zeff Elroy, was a Rainlord of Sair, and by extension, so too were all of his kin. Admittedly, Marcos didn’t know what all that entailed, but he knew that it meant his father was important to the government in some way and that it was an honor to bear his name.

When Zeff’s cool gaze fell upon his son, he offered the boy an acknowledging nod. “Marcos.”

“Pa.” He wished he could deliver such a simple greeting with as much gravitas. One day, maybe.

“Did you have fun with your friends?” his father asked.

“Yes, ensir,” said Marcos.

“Good. Go get cleaned up before dinner.”

“Yes, ensir.”

“Wait. Have you wished your sister a happy birthday?”

Marcos averted his gaze. “Ah...”

“That comes first, then.”

He tried not to groan. “Do I have to?”

“Yes.”

“But she hates me.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because she said so to my face.”

“And did you perhaps do something to provoke her before she said that?”

“No, ensir,” he lied.

Zeff knelt down to look his son in the eye. “Your sister does not hate you. She is merely different from you and the others. You should show your support for her, especially when she is having a difficult time. Understood?”

“Yes, ensir.”

“Remember this, Marcos: an effective means of measuring a man’s character is by observing how he treats his loved ones. See to it that you may not be measured as such and found lacking.”

Someone should’ve told that to Cisco, Marcos thought. He held his tongue, however, and simply nodded. He watched his father walk away and then proceeded up the stairs.

Emy’s room was on the third floor as well, across the hall from his own. Marcos knocked on the door.

“What is it?” came her voice.

“Uh, I was just wondering how you’re doing.”

There was a pause as footsteps stomped toward the door. She cracked the door open and looked through. “What?” As of today, she was still only two years older than him, but she looked like more than that. It was so unfair that girls got to mature more quickly than boys.

“Listen, I’m sorry about the frog. And the mouse.”

“Mice,” she corrected.

“Mice.”

“And the roaches,” she went on. “And the snake.”

“Yeah, those too. Sorry.”

She just eyed him doubtfully.

“And, uh--happy birthday?” Not a question, but he offered it like one.

“Thanks,” she said flatly.

“But you know, the snake wasn’t dangerous. You didn’t have to freak out as much as--”

She slammed the door in his face.

He shrugged and moved on to his room.

There’d been a stint in the past where part of the estate had been destroyed, which resulted in him having to bunk with Cisco temporarily. Needless to say, Marcos now fully appreciated his good fortune in having a room all to himself.

He washed his hands, dried his hair with a towel, and then made his way back downstairs.

Dinner was tenser than usual. For as long as Marcos could remember, their lord father had made a point of ensuring that the family always sat down and ate together, going so far as to ground any child who was late for the meal without good reason. It was a sacred time, often reserved for parental inquiries, but today was different. Emy’s fourteenth birthday meant something special, something that everyone knew she was not looking forward to.

“You should just relax,” said Cisco. “It’s not even going to hurt.”

Emy kept her eyes down at her plate as she said, “I don’t expect you to understand.”

Annoyance flashed across Cisco’s face. “You’re the one who doesn’t understand. This is a good thing, you idiot.”

“Francisco,” said their mother, “do not speak to your sister that way. And Emiliana, do not scorn your brother’s attempt to comfort you.”

“Yes, enma’am,” they both said.

Rare as it was, Marcos found himself in agreement with Cisco on this one. If he were in Emy’s position, he would’ve been excited to finally be receiving a reaper. Even if it did mean dying.