Ustim descended from his carriage with care. He was advancing in years, after all, and not only did slow, careful movements befit his station and age, but it wouldn’t do to trip on his robe and tumble into the street before such an important meeting.
Yeoric closed the carriage door after him, broad, handsome face inscrutable. Ustim patted Yeoric’s arm in just the right patronizing manner that he knew the warrior detested, then smoothed down his robe as he gazed at the large manor house before him: Lord Jin’s prime residency.
A servant had already emerged to await him on the landing before the large front doors. The man’s expression was serene, polite, disinterested. It was not to be wondered at; Ustim knew himself to be a man of little political station. It was daring for him to present himself uninvited at such a powerful lord’s home, but this was how the great game was played: caution until it was time for boldness.
Ustim climbed the steps, Yeoric a step behind him, and inclined his head to the servant. “Greetings. I am Ustim Flowervault, an undersecretary from the Flutic Mining Consortium. I have a matter to discuss with the esteemed Lord Jin that I am confident will be of interest.”
The servant discretely looked Ustim up and down. The man would find no fault with his robes; Ustim had a secret passion for couture and the language the nobility spoke through cloth and sash, fabric and cut. The trick was to not dress above one’s station, even if one could afford to do so, but rather to present what one was with such confidence that others, even one’s betters, couldn’t help but take note.
“Be welcome at Lord Jin’s home, Mr. Flowervault,” said the servant, tone polite but noncommittal. “Please, follow me.”
Could it be so easy? No. Ustim maintained a placid smile as he entered the manor, and nodded graciously as he and Yeoric were shown to the first parlor on the right-hand side. It was aggressively elegant, if understated; Lord Jin had a reputation for sophistication that the furniture and decorations here exemplified.
“If you will await here for but a moment,” said the servant, closing the door behind him as he left.
“Well, that was easy enough,” said Yeoric, looking around the room and clearly not appreciating what he saw.
“Don’t be a fool,” murmured Ustim, moving to a wall hanging of breathtaking beauty. “We’re still far from the peak of this mountain.”
They were forced to wait half a bell, an insultingly long period of time, but Ustim had expected nothing less. He finally took a seat and waited with a genial smile, eyes closed, hands folded in his lap. Yeoric ended up before the window so as to watch the gardeners at work.
When the door finally opened, it was another servant, an older man with iron gray hair and severe, elegant robes of blue.
Ustim rose graciously to his feet.
“Mr. Flowervault,” said the stranger, moving forward to execute a shallow bow. “I am Kim Ling, Lord Jin’s advisor. He is currently pre-occupied with other matters, and sends his regrets for not being able to attend you in person. Perhaps I can be of assistance?”
“Of course,” said Ustim smoothly. He wanted to compliment the advisor on the cut of his robe; it was a fashionable revisiting of a classical style, but doing so would only appear like base flattery. “A matter has come to my attention that I thought would interest Lord Jin. I had the honor of seeing the lord at the Platinum Rose Auction house a few weeks ago, and noted his avid interest in a certain Harald Darrowdelve’s assets; he was, of course, one amongst many interested in making bids, but I thought his discernment in what he bid on remarkable.”
Kim Ling raised an eyebrow, otherwise betraying nothing.
“But far be it from me to offer judgment on Lord Jin’s discernment,” continued Ustim. “I have, however, business of my own with Sir Darrowdelve. Business that I thought Lord Jin might be interested in learning more about, seeing as it will quite likely, though regretfully, result in Sir Darrowdelve’s death.”
Kim Ling’s expression betrayed nothing. No wonder Lord Jin had assigned him such an important role. “I am afraid I don’t understand. What manner of business so imperils Sir Darrowdelve?”
“He forged a raiding association with Yeoric Bronzel here, a raider who sought to aid him while Sir Darrowdelve was finding his footing. However, the relationship turned sour, and Sir Darrowdelve not only insulted Yeoric’s integrity, but then demanded a duel to resolve matters. A duel that is taking place in…” Ustim turned to Yeoric, as if momentarily forgetting. “Three weeks’ time?”
Yeoric inclined his head.
“Regardless. It is a petty affair, but Yeoric’s honor demands redress for these insults. I have overseen the contracts and charters for Yeoric’s raiding crew, and while amending the charter to reflect the terms of the upcoming duel, recalled Lord Jin’s interest in Sir Darrowdelve’s estate. Out of an overabundance of caution, I thought it wise to alert Lord Jin of the appending duel; if there is any possibility that Lord Jin were interested in such an affair, than it was obviously incumbent of me to inform him.”
Kim Ling inclined his head. “Your overabundance of caution is appreciated, Mr. Flowervault. If you will wait a moment longer? I will have refreshments brought.”
“But of course,” smiled Ustim, keeping his manner polite and humble. On no account could he betray his pleasure.
The advisor bowed again and departed.
“That went well?” asked Yeoric, clearly unsure.
“Oh yes.” Ustim sat again, placid as he sensed matters proceeding as they should. “Kim Ling is Lord Jin’s advisor, perhaps his principle confidant. That means he’s well aware of Lord Jin’s anger.”
“Why would Lord Jin be angry?” asked Yeoric, brows lowering.
“Because Harald has been ignoring his overtures. It has been three weeks since Lord Jin honored him by spending far more scales on his belongings than he needed to; this overture was followed by several letters politely inviting Harald to come visit, letters Harald has ignored.”
Yeoric moved to sit beside Ustim. “And you know this how?”
Ustim’s smile was cold. “Oh Yeoric. It is a simple thing to bribe the courier who services Baldric Avenue and both delivers and collects letters and missives. I’ve kept careful tabs on how many times Lord Jin has written to Darrowdelve Manor, and only yesterday did Harald bother to respond. A letter which, unfortunately, was intercepted, and will never reach its intended destination.”
Yeoric grinned. “You canny old goat.”
Ustim narrowed his eyes.
Yeoric immediately coughed into his fist. “I mean, well done, sir.”
“Quite.”
Refreshments were served, consisting of green tea and small spongy biscuits. The Eleventh Bell rang, and shortly thereafter Kim Ling appeared once more. “If you will follow me, Mr. Flowervault?”
Ustim arose, bowed, and then followed the advisor deeper into the manor. They rose to the first floor, and there paused before a beautifully carved door inlaid with walnut panels. Kim Ling knocked politely, opened the door, and bowed exceptionally low. “Lord Jin, I have brought Mr. Flowervault as requested.”
And with that, the advisor stepped aside.
Ustim stepped into the doorway and bowed even lower. He vaguely sensed Yeoric doing the same behind him, and when he straightened, he had to control himself from gaping at the wealth and wonders on display.
The study was filled with glass cabinets, and on each shelf lay a treasure. He caught sight of gorgeous tapestries, silk wall hangings, but he restrained himself from examining them; instead he focused on Lord Jin, who remained seated behind his expansive desk.
Of course the lord didn’t rise. There was no need to honor one such as Ustim.
“Mr. Flowervault,” said Lord Jin, his voice serene and cultured. “Be welcome in my home. Please, take a seat.”
Ustim moved to one of the chairs arranged before the desk and sat lightly upon the edge of one. “Lord Jin, you do me great honor in allowing me this audience. Truly, your magnanimity and generosity are fairly lauded in the city.”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
Lord Jin bowed his head. He was handsome, perilously so in the manner of all who had absorbed plentiful scales from the Fallen Angel. He wore a doublet of midnight blue tailored to perfection and embroidered with understated silver patterns. His hair was impeccable, styled away from his face so as to reveal his striking features, his strong jawline, his eyes that commanded attention with depth and intelligence. Such was his presence that merely resting behind his desk he still exuded power and authority, causing Ustim’s mouth to dry and his throat to tighten.
Lord Jin inclined his head, acknowledging Ustim’s praise. “My advisor tells me you have business with Harald Darrowdelve. Why do you think I would be interested?”
“As I mentioned to Mr. Ling, I noted your generosity on full display at the Platinum Rose estate auction. Not daring to guess its cause, I thought it best to inform you of this upcoming duel. Mr. Bronzel’s dispute with Sir Darrowdelve is of no account if it in anyway displeases your lordship.”
“I see.” Lord Jin betrayed nothing. “Please explain the cause of this dispute.”
“Harald approached Yeoric a couple of months ago with an offer: he would finance the outfitting of a crew and pay for a dungeon writ in exchange for a percentage of the crew’s gains from their raids. Yeoric found the arrangement acceptable, and took pity on Harald, for the boy was then without recourse due to his immense personal debts. However, upon completing their first successful raid, Yeoric visited Harald to pay the agreed upon percentage; Harald grew greedy, and demanded the charter be rewritten. When Yeoric protested that this was unfair, Harald all but struck him in a fit of petulant rage, and demanded the full expenses of his outfitting the crew be reimbursed twice over. Yeoric sought to reason with the man, but Harald proved arrogant in the extreme, and instead challenged him to a duel. Said duel is due to take place three weeks from now.”
“I see,” said Lord Jin. “How do you square this dependency on Yeoric with Harald’s own astonishing rise in power?”
“I had the great fortune of being a close friend of Harald’s father. He entrusted me with all his personal matters, including that he had hidden a great trove of treasure in his home. It is my belief that Harald, in the process of stripping the manor house of all valuables for his estate sale, found this treasure horde, and absorbed it all, opening who knows how many Thrones in the process. He has since surrounded himself with sell swords of ill repute, and begun delving the dungeon.”
“Hmm.” Lord Jin glanced past Ustim at where Kim Ling no doubt stood, then rubbed at this clean shaven shin.
“Yeoric approached me for advice,” continued Ustim, “at first because he thought the duel unfair to Harald; Yeoric is a Level 3 Iron Vanguard, while at the time Harald had no class at all. I advised he give Harald time to come to his senses, but now it seems, due to having found his father’s treasure, Harald insists upon the duel. If you wish it, however, Lord Jin, we would cancel the duel in a moment out of respect for your deep friendship with Harald Darrowdelve, and the no doubt burgeoning relationship between your households.”
Lord Jin studied him.
Ustim forced a genial smile. Had he played his hand too strongly? It shouldn’t matter.
“I thank you for bringing this matter to my attention. I have indeed been paying close attention to Sir Darrowdelve’s remarkable ascent in power, for it is of interest to House Silvershield.”
“Oh, that makes sense,” agreed Ustim affably. “And no wonder! Though Harald was seen dining at Lady Celestis’ manor only a week ago, I’m sure he is honored beyond measure by your illustrious House’s interest. Shall I call off the duel, then, in light of his imminent acceptance of your patronage?”
Lord Jin’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
Ustim maintained his blithe smile.
“He dined with Melisende Celestis a week ago?”
“Oh, I suppose it would be two weeks, now. It was the very next evening after the auction.”
“I see.” Lord Jin stroked his chin again. “Interesting. I wasn’t aware.”
The silence drew out.
Thank the angels Yeoric was smart enough to remain silent.
“Unfortunately, you are mistaken as to my relationship with Harald Darrowdelve,” said Lord Jin, and Ustim crushed a thrill of excitement. “We have never spoken, and it is to my dismay that Harald has not seen fit to respond to my letters. I fear I may have been mistaken as to the nature of his character; your own tale sadly affirms my worst suspicions.”
Ustim bowed his head. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“Are you, now?” Lord Jin’s amusement was cold. “But how fortuitous that you’ve brought Mr. Bronzel with you. You are a Level 3 Iron Vanguard?”
“I am, my lord.”
Lord Jin tapped his fingers on the desk. “I have it on good authority that Harald has already Ascended to his Second Throne. And yourself?”
Yeoric’s face remained impassive even as his cheeks flushed. “Just the one, my lord.”
“Hmm.” Again Lord Jin glanced past Ustim at where Kim Ling stood by the door. “It is an unusual request, but perhaps you would humor me, Mr. Bronzel? I would see for myself what you are capable of.”
Ah, sweet, sweet victory.
Yeoric sat up straighter. “It would be the honor of a lifetime, your lordship. But, ah, I obviously wouldn’t be able to, well -”
Lord Jin raised a hand, cutting him off. “I understand. Shall we?”
They arose. Ustim had expected Lord Jin to excuse himself to change out of his peerlessly expensive robes, but instead the lord led them all downstairs and to the back of the house. Where most manors might feature a ballroom, this one had a great sparring circle laid out on white marble. A rope as thick as Yeoric’s beefy wrist was half-embedded in a perfect circle upon the stone, and great windows of astonishing height allowed the overcast morning light to flood the space. Huge clay vases ringed the walls, ferns adding lush greenness to the otherwise austere setting, and one wall was wholly given over to a weapon rack upon which some hundred weapons of every description and size were affixed.
“Impress the man,” whispered Ustim as Lord Jin strode pensively out into the center of the circle. Yeoric was pale, his jaw clenched. “I know you are as nothing compared to him, but he’s intent on measuring your fighting spirit, not your ability to land a blow.”
“Right,” muttered Yeoric. “Right.”
“Savage dedication. Manifest your killing instinct. If you impress him sufficiently, you may earn an invitation to House Silvershield and Lord Jin’s personal retinue,” continued Ustim, though he didn’t believe it. “Give this your absolute all, Yeoric!”
Yeoric nodded fiercely, stepped up to the great rope boundary, and then bowed low before stepping into the circle. The sparring circle was easily some forty yards wide, the marble surface chipped and gauged by past battles, though all had been swept clean and polished.
“Do not fear for my safety,” said Lord Jin as Yeoric approached him warily. “Attack me with everything you have. Collect any weapons or armor that you need.”
Yeoric stepped over to the weapons rack and drew down a tower shield and a broadsword. These he examined briefly, but obviously they were of peerless quality; Ustim hoped Lord Jin didn’t take insult from this gaffe.
Lord Jin, for his part, remained in the center of the circle, hands linked behind his back, expression distant and pensive.
No doubt playing over what Ustim had revealed to him. Little seeds that would only bloom into dark blossoms in due time.
Yeoric settled himself before Lord Jin, tower shield raised, broadsword at the ready. The man was clearly an experienced warrior; Ustim knew little of the martial arts, but Yeoric looked competent enough, his physicality impressive, his stance impressive.
But though Lord Jin remained still, the Gold-ranked raider made Yeoric look like a child aping his betters.
The sparring circle was completely silent. Yeoric was breathing heavily, laboring already in Lord Jin’s presence.
Then, abruptly, the Copper-ranked warrior exploded forward. He burst forward, faster than Ustim could follow, and swung his blade in a great arc down upon the elegantly dressed lord.
A concussive boom sounded as the blow crashed through the air in which Lord Jin had stood, a peal of thunder so violent that Ustim startled and stepped back.
But Lord Jin had somehow relocated himself a dozen yards behind Yeoric, hands still linked behind his back.
Yeoric spun and approached again, eyes barely visible over the rim of his tower shield. Again, he burst forward at the last moment, blurring as he rushed in and swung his blade.
This time, however, Lord Jin raised a slender silver blade to parry the large broadsword. It looked, for a second, impossible; Yeoric was layered with muscle, the great arc of his swing massive, the blade itself broad and long and fearsome, whereas Lord Jin raised his slender sword with one arm, his movement languorous, indifferent.
The great peal of thunder sounded again, blowing Lord Jin’s hair back and ruffling his robes, but otherwise not affecting him.
But his parry stopped Yeoric’s blade cold.
Yeoric grimaced and set to striking at the lord, swinging his blade again and again from different angles, shield always raised, thrusting and chopping and hewing.
Lord Jin casually parried every blow, never needing to even step or change his stance.
Sweat was streaming down Yeoric’s face. There was some terrible force behind the parries, for Yeoric’s attacks were rapidly losing speed.
Then, without warning, Lord Jin tapped Yeoric’s tower shield in its center with his silver sword.
Yeoric’s eyes widened as he hunched behind the shield, his whole stance one of resistance, but the force of the blow was such that he slid back some seven yards, boots losing all traction on the marble, and then finally tripped and fell sprawling onto his back.
For a moment Yeoric lay there, blinking and gasping, and then, with a great effort, he rolled over and stood.
“Enough,” said Lord Jin, his silver blade disappearing.
Yeoric, gasping for breath, bowed low. “Thank you, my lord. I… I am honored to…”
“You did well. One Throne? Level 3 Iron Vanguard? I would not have expected you to be able to rise so soon after my blow.”
“I… I benefit from Set in Stone and Shrug It Off.” Yeoric forced himself to straighten. “It allows me to… to recover from strong blows.”
Lord Jin’s smile was cruel. “That was not a strong blow. But still. Not bad. You will do.”
“Do, my lord?”
Lord Jin dismissed him and turned to smile at Ustim. “Let us return to my study. I would discuss terms.”
“Of course, my lord,” said Ustim, bowing as low as he could.
Lord Jin and his advisor led the way out of the sparring circle. Yeoric rushed to hang up the weapons, then jogged over, looking bewildered. “Terms?”
“For your advancement.” Ustim fought not to preen. “You have been found worthy of his investment.”
Yeoric brightened, a tentative smile crossing his face.
“As a means of his vengeance,” continued Ustim. “Lord Jin will wield you as a weapon against Harald and House Celestis. He will see to it that you are more than capable of utterly crushing Harald when the duel comes.”
“Oh,” said Yeoric, blinking. “But… he’s not part of House Celestis. Is he?”
“Of course not.” Ustim’s voice was little more than a whisper as he set began walking. “But Lord Jin may make what assumptions he desires. And as long as you are capable of killing Harald, then I, as the overseer of his estate, will be able to dispense of his belongings as I see fit.”
Yeoric frowned at him as they drew close to the door. “You’re the overseer of his estate?”
Ustim’s smile was sublime. “I will be. And with Harald dead, who will contest the will I shall draft for him? You do your part, Yeoric, and you, too, will be richly compensated.”
The warrior frowned as he considered, but then smiled wolfishly. “I like that sound of that.”
“Of course you do,” said Ustim, raising his chin and assuming a humble, genial expression. “Of course you do.”