While Breana was grateful and honored for being in the employ of her new king, there were times where Kyle’s eccentricities taxed her sensibilities. His magic was scary enough, summoning huge golden things that were not really gold (gold does not blunt pickaxes). But then there were the ideas of showers and toilets that, while marvelous on the surface, told Breana that her liege also likely held frightening knowledge in that confident head of his.
At least he’s a good king, so hopefully none of his eldritch wrath would be leveled on Breana and the other Alteraci.
He had ordered for the more isolated farmsteads to relocate closer to the cities and towns, taking over abandoned farmland for the sake of making it easier to protect everyone. Taxes were dropped and new homes were practically given away to ensure that everyone could at least afford a solid meal a day under a roof.
Good, decent jobs were offered in the mines, which bore far less negative connotations than before now that there were dwarves in charge. The stout, hardy people were prickly when it came to how a mine should look like, but coupled with some gnomish machines the results meant that miners were coming back far less broken than they used to.
King Kyle’s decisions and ideas for Alterac were generous and altruistic indeed, though such compassion came at a price.
The price was a mild madness, and it was a price that people like Breana paid. Kyle’s decisions to dig up holes in the middle of towns and villages in the middle of the night, when everyone else was asleep, only so he could conjure up a huge crystal, was eccentric enough. But then he had them fill up the hole and bury the crystal to make it so that nothing had happened.
He also had his ‘agents’ - because ‘servants’ were too peasant a word - play a game of hide the trinket by secreting away small golden pyramids in every church and town hall.
It had to be really well hidden too, because the mage king had a thing for unnecessary discretion. On her more uncharitable days, Breana wondered if her king threw in compost after he shat just so no one can really guess what he ate.
Kyle also sent them on weird errands, like the one Breana was currently undertaking. Traveling to Durnholde wasn’t so bad, if she didn’t worry so much about figuring out the intentions behind all this.
Her title as agent of Alterac’s king gave Breana and her small retinue a powerful diplomatic aura that made everyone deferential to them, even if none of them were anywhere close to nobles. The Knights of the Silver Hand escorting them across Lordaeron also helped enhance that impression. It was utterly uncomfortable for Breana and her fellows to receive such unwarranted respect from the people she came across.
They were given the best rooms at the inns they stopped in, and their service was prioritized.
Barons eagerly hosted and toasted them.
It all felt so awkward and weird for a bunch of once-destitute farmers.
They reached Durnholde Keep in good time. As they used the main trade roads, Breana did not get to see any of the infamous orcish internment camps that the fortress oversaw.
She didn’t know if she should be disappointed or glad for that.
Lord Aedelas Blackmoore greeted them with full fanfare.
“Welcome, to Durnholde, sirs and madams, to the heart of the Alliance’s monument of victory over the Horde.”
It was a bit much, but Breana played her part and bowed graciously at her host.
“Lord Blackmoore, thank you for accommodating us. I have been sent on behalf of King Kyle Daelam, so that he might learn more about the Alliance’s internment efforts.”
“Of course, of course. Please, follow me.”
Breana and her fellow Alteraci former-refugees endured a long and winding speech most nobles were so fond of. Even for a minor lord, Aedelas really liked the sound of his own voice, though it did not go unnoticed how his secondaries and guards kept a fearful eye on their drunk lord.
Great, Kyle was right about needing to tread carefully. Good thing then that Breana wasn’t here to rile anyone.
“And over there is the arena, where with the aid of convicts seeking redemption, honest folk are given some leisure.”
It took a whole lot of Breana’s will not to blanch at that, her people too. The Silver Hand knights didn’t seem to care.
Gladiatorial fights, in Lordaeron.
And they called Alterac a backwater?
“I apologize that I wasn’t more prepared for your arrival, otherwise I would have shown off one of our biggest draws,” Aedelas said suggestively, but Breana was already shaking her head.
“It’s no big deal, Lord Aedelas. Now, if we can move onto the topic of financing the camps?”
“Right, right. Langston, where’re the ledgers?”
“Ah, no need to explain that,” she quickly interrupted. “King Kyle has no doubts of your competence in wielding the funds wisely. He simply wishes to…” Breana fought the urge to gulp as nervousness tingled in her throat. “...know if there are needs here that could be fulfilled. Alterac might still be rebuilding, but recent developments with the gnomes have given us some advantages in machinery especially.”
The lord of Durnholde Keep didn’t pretend to be impressed. “We’re all good here. No need to waste good things on the orcs. The brutes can build their own tents and cook their own food well enough.”
“As you say, Lord Blackmoore.”
The topic shifted, and Breana endured the whole damned and boring ceremony. She only needed to give a quick glance at her equally bored entourage to see them carry out their true mission.
Even with the attention of the Durnholde’s guards, even with the fabled Knights of the Silver Hand shadowing them, it was no hard task for one of them to discreetly drop a tiny golden pyramid into a little crevice between the floorboards. It only cost Drevik a bit of pride in pretending to stumble and trip.
Breana and her Alteraci party stayed for the night and left as early in the morning as possible. They were a week closer to Alterac’s borders when the news of Lord Aedelas’ passing reached them. No suspicion was cast on them for their prior visit, but that did not banish the nagging thought that it was somehow responsible for the drunken lord’s demise.
*****
Taretha sighed with relief as she entered Aedelas’ bed chambers. He was sprawled on his bed, an empty goblet spilled on the floor beside it along with two toppled pitchers. The rug beneath them was not stained. Another pitcher of wine sat by the bedside table. He’d been drinking too much again, and had fallen into a deep sleep, which meant that Taretha could enjoy the respite of sleeping in her own room tonight.
She quietly left and made her way to the sanctuary of her room. The fortress’ guards she passed politely ignored her or offered sympathetic smiles. Taretha understood that the latter was the best they could do, that anyone could do as a servant of Durnholde Keep. Everyone within was at the mercy of the drunken, iron grip of its mercurial master.
Taretha hated it, but with little real options, and for the sake of her family, she endured the horrid affections of Aedelas. The only sliver of light was the fact that she was lowborn, and so could only rise as high as his mistress. It would be a completely different nightmare to be actually wedded to the monster. To be forced to raise a family for him.
Entertaining those dark thoughts again, Taretha was distracted as she entered her room, locking the door behind her before she noticed that there was a stranger standing by her bed.
“Miss Taretha?” came a soft voice.
Taretha gasped and jumped back and immediately began backpedaling towards the door, but the stranger - a raven-haired boy - raised his hand placatingly.
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“Please, I’m not here to harm you.”
Her back lightly brushed against the door, Taretha forced out a reply to hopefully stall for time. “Wh-What do you want? Who are you?”
The boy slowly lowered his hands. “I’m Kyle. I’m just here to ask some questions.” The meager lamplight by Taretha’s bed highlighted his features. He was well dressed, like a noble on a countryside excursion. Noticeably young too, at least five years her junior despite how tall he was. It was the softness in his silvery eyes that quelled Taretha’s rising panic. No hostility, no outward signs of ill intent…
That didn’t mean she lowered her guard fully though. “What…what do you want to know?” she asked, brushing a stray strand of blonde hair out of her face with one hand, while the other slowly snaked behind her back to reach for the door’s handle. The boy- Kyle gave her a pointed look, clearly seeing past her little misdirection.
And then she froze in fear as his eyes literally glowed blue.
“Please, just a question or two and I’ll be out of your hair soon. I’m not here to hurt anyone tonight.”
Stuck in a room with a mage who could do who knows what, Taretha bit back the urge to scream and instead slumped in defeat. “What do you want to know?” she asked again, more resigned this time. Kyle’s eyes stopped glowing and he settled for taking a step back.
“Lord Aedelas, how often does he drink himself to sleep?”
“Not enough,” she muttered, rubbing at her dress’ sleeve which hid her latest set of bruises. She wasn’t sure if it was the fear or something else, but Taretha found herself answering a bit too honestly.
The boy seemed to understand as he offered a sympathetic nod. “Does he switch goblets?”
She thought over the question for a while before answering truthfully. “Not that I’m aware of.”
Kyle gave another nod. “Then if it’s any consolation, if he keeps that up he’ll be sleeping through his nights a lot more for a while.”
Taretha did not miss that insinuation. “Y-You’ve poisoned him?”
“Not really,” he shrugged. “He’s already poisoning himself with so much alcohol, I’m just…helping him along.” He gave her a look before a ghost of a smirk appeared on his face. “He’ll wake up fine- well, fine enough for a binge drinker. You’re free to inform him of my little interference after I leave, of course. It should net you some good will from him.”
“What little that’s worth,” she added bitterly, missing any pretense of prettying up her current life.
“True. Which brings me to my second question.” Taretha tensed up as the stranger adopted a more intense gaze. “Would you be open to working for me?”
She blinked. “What?”
“I’ve…heard? Told? Eh, I’m informed that you’ve a sharp mind. I could use more sharp minds right now.”
“I’m just a mere mistress,” she started to say, but Kyle cut her off.
“Don’t downplay yourself. I saw the resentment in your eyes just now. You hate it here, you wish you were somewhere else, doing something better. My mom’s something similar, from a castle to a farm, she hated where she fell, and she couldn’t do anything about it. Though, at least she got a good family out of it…”
Kyle suddenly paused, and then his posture became sheepish. “Oh, uh, don’t tell anyone I said all that.”
Taretha blinked as she carefully digested his words, studying the boy to ascertain the nature of what he offered. Kyle seemed sincere, and being exposed to Aedelas’ people, Taretha couldn’t sense any of their…dirtiness on him. It could be a great ruse, of course, she didn’t think she was that good at discerning people, but…
“What would you have me do? If I accept, that is?”
“Do you have an interest in any particular field?”
Awkward silence hung in the air for a moment before Kyle shrugged. “Eh, I have reliable educators that can help you figure out what you might like or not. From there, we can figure out whether you fit in as a secondary or a more…middle manager? Yeah, middle manager role.”
Taretha unconsciously tilted her head to one side as she struggled to comprehend the string of words she was hearing from him.
“You want me to…advise you? Or lead people?”
“Depends on whether you’re fine with it or not,” came the reply with yet another shrug.
“You’re not…I don’t have to…”
“To what? Oh.” Kyle paused as he quickly understood, and then Taretha felt his gaze on her shift. There was the dirty familiarity in it, the one she got from too many men, and she caught how the boy’s eyes darkened. But only for a moment. Kyle’s stare quickly, almost violently, turned neutral as he regarded her from head to toe, and the lamplight caught some darkening of his cheeks.
“You…don’t have to. Sorry, won’t have to.” There was another awkward pause as Kyle finally studied Taretha’s face more intently.
“Wow, okay, it’s uncanny,” he whispered not too softly.
“What’s uncanny?” she asked defensively, shrinking away from his gaze.
“Uh, nothing. Nothing at all. Anyway. Time’s running short. Could I press you for an answer now, or would you need time to mull it over?”
Right, he said he was only here for a moment. She didn’t think he actually meant it. Maybe he had a spell or magic item that would forcibly take him back to wherever he came from regardless of his wishes?
“I…” Taretha barely acknowledged the fact that she had fully lowered her guard against the intruder in her room as she genuinely considered his proposal.
“But I’m currently-”
“Assume that your…position with Aedelas might come to an end.”
Taretha frowned at the suggestion, and Kyle shook his head. “The less you know, the better.”
Did she really, truly care? Taretha thought long and hard about it, recalling what she’d been through these few years, what others have been put through…
If Kyle really was going to assassinate Aedelas, then good riddance.
“My family?”
“They would be welcome with you, of course. We can discuss their employment and housing arrangements for them later.”
The offer was enticing. Too enticing, and what’s worse was that Taretha couldn’t figure out what the hidden catch was. She was no one important, not to anyone of note, nor did she contain any important knowledge. Did Kyle really just want to offer her a job?
It was ludicrous.
But…
“If I say yes, what happens? Do you whisk me and my family away or…?”
It was Kyle’s turn to stare blankly for a second before he blinked. “Right. Forgot about transportation. Shit. Well, uh…” He paused again before sighing. “You’ll have to manage your own travels, I’m afraid.”
Well, that was anticlimactic.
“I can offer you the coin for it. For suspicions’ sake, that’s all I can do unfortunately.”
“And when do we leave?”
“As soon as the opportunity arises.”
Basically once Aedelas was dead. And Kyle was not giving Taretha any hint as to when that might happen.
“If I say no?” she asked, for the sake of thoroughness.
“Then I wish you all the best,” came the smooth reply. “And maybe suggest that you find better pastures south. Maybe Stormwind’s good.”
That was definitely an ominous piece of advice.
Taretha kept thoughtfully silent for a moment as she weighed her options. It really was no contest. This dangling sliver of hope, even if held by a barbed hook, sounded too good to pass up. At worst, she’d be in a similar position as she was now, or dead. Both seemed almost interchangeable, if not for-
“I have a condition,” she suddenly said, remembering that her family went beyond her parents. “If I say yes, I want something from you.”
Kyle looked surprised, but thankfully he didn’t seem displeased. “And that is…?”
“I need your help to free someone. A prisoner in the-”
Taretha stopped when she noted how the boy’s features immediately darkened. Dread, once banished, began rising in her again. “You’re talking about Thrall.”
He knows Thrall?
Taretha somehow nodded in response as she braved Kyle’s glare. At least his eyes weren’t glowing, which only made his presence a little bit less imposing.
“The orcs should be put down.”
“But they’re n-”
“They are.”
“But Thrall’s not,” she insisted, finding surprising courage to defend the orc that she viewed as a little brother. “Whatever you think they are, he’s not. If you know of him, you should know that.”
Taretha braved a step towards the angry boy-mage. “Please, spare him and help me free him,” she begged, her wet eyes meeting his. “Thrall is different.”
“Which is what makes him dangerous,” he hissed back.
“He’s not,” she countered with all her heart. “Please, Kyle. Sir. I’ll do anything. Anything.”
Kyle’s angry glare intensified for a second, and Taretha almost cowered before it let up. The boy then sighed with exasperation. “Forgot to consider that too,” he muttered. “Should’ve known…” He kept rambling softly for a few seconds before shooting a sharp look at Taretha that made her back away from him again.
“Fine. I’ll help you break Thrall out, and on my word, I’ll leave him alone…for now.” It’s about the best she could get, Taretha realized, and she nodded. “If he dies due to other things though-”
“He won’t,” she confidently assured him. “And if he does, I won’t blame you.”
Kyle gave her another look before sighing again. “Fucking fine. It’ll make for a suitable cover at least. Thrall will be freed, give me a few days.”
Taretha bowed gratefully at the simmering boy. “Thank you, sir. I promise, you will have whatever you wish of me after that.”
Unexpectedly, Kyle grimaced, even if his eyes betrayed a second of dark intent. “Let’s not make things weird.”
After some finer details on their agreement, Kyle signaled his departure by being bathed in blue light before vanishing with a soft thunderclap. It was only after the fact that Taretha noticed the ambient sound around her returned to normal from a silence she hadn’t noticed. She had little time to dwell on that little curiosity though. The young woman instead began planning well into the night, and continued scheming over the following days.
True to Kyle’s promise, Aedelas never remained awake after dinner, always ending up in the deepest of sleep even with only half his usual intake of wine and lager. It bought Taretha precious time to prepare. She discreetly sorted out what she could and couldn’t take with her, the latter were bartered or sold off using excuses of clearing out clutter to avoid displeasing her lord. Her father was persuaded to purchase a carriage, once more using Aedelas as an excuse.
By the time the fateful day came, Taretha was almost itching with apprehension. It was on a quiet evening when the alarm bells rang about the whole keep.
“Fire! Fire in several camps!”
Despite his drunken state, Aedelas was quick to respond, hollering orders to his men. The full might of Durnholde Keep was mustered in a hurry, to put out the flames and to recapture the orcs that fled. The former was achieved, but the latter had been only a partial success. A good number of orcs fled, which accounted for Aedelas’ dark temper as he returned.
Taretha feared for herself as he would no doubt seek to vent his rage on her, but another shout just as he dismounted almost knocked the lord of Durnholde Keep off his feet.
“He’s escaped, m’lord!”
Fear turned to hope as Taretha immediately knew who ‘he’ was. Aedelas stormed off in a hurry, and only in the following morning did he return along with the shroud of gossip about what had happened.
Thrall’s cell was broken into. Probably by some of the escaped orcs. Aedelas and his men searched all night for them, but the darkness hid their tracks too much. The wrathful lord only returned because his horse had been ridden to exhaustion, and he was off again with a new one.
For four days did Aedelas force himself and his men to scour the region, but to no avail. The men were at least rotated out, though Taretha did not envy their shifts at all. Their lord though only returned in the midday, to eat, drink and sleep for a while before going back out. The search was finally called off, but not on Aedelas orders. Lord Langston, his second-in-command, delivered the orders back to Durnholde Keep, along with the regretful news that Lord Aedelas, through recklessness borne of rage, suffered a fatal accident in his search for the orc escapees.
Gossip inevitably came back to provide clearer details: He had ridden ahead of his group and had been later found dismounted, his neck broken and his horse gone. With no signs of danger around, everything pointed to a tragic accident, that somehow Lord Aedelas fell off his horse and broke his neck.
Durnholde Keep officially grieved for a few days at the passing of their lord, though in truth most within only did so for less than an hour. Before talk of his successor came up, Taretha had managed to convince her parents to leave with her, under the pretense that their privileges earned under Aedelas might not carry over to the keep’s new lord.
Riding in the carriage they so conveniently bought days ago, the Foxtons began their journey west, where Taretha had apparently heard of plenty of opportunities to begin anew, and a young king who was seeking talent.