Chapter 19

  “Diligent training and adherence to the regimens set by the masters of each Knight House not only winnow out the weaknesses of its applicants, but it guarantees the graduates of the Houses are the best. So yes, Lady Irese, we are pushing your son to the limit. We push them all to their limits, because until they hit rock bottom, neither they, nor their comrades will know just how far they can be pushed. The Eastern Ocean will run dry before I or any other Knight Commander reduce the requirements for an individual candidate to pass the final examinations in order to earn their braid.” —Recorded correspondence between Lord Calden Erikeen, Knight Commander of House Erikeen, and Lady Petunia Irese regarding the conditions of her son’s graduation

  Tower Castle, Cryptonia, Ground Plane

  Armsmaster Benn and Titus walked Jasper through numerous sword drills to help improve his technique and endurance. His padded armor was soaked through by the time lunch was announced. Fern sent a servant to fetch Jasper, insisting that he would be exhausted and unable to attend his other duties if Benn kept pushing him so hard.

  “We were just finishing for the morning,” Benn said, nodding to the young dwarf. His gaze slid to Jasper, eyebrow raised. “Bright and early tomorrow morning, my Lord?”

  “Certainly, Master Benn. I’ll be on time.”

  “Good. Until then, ser, unless you have need of me, I’ll be working with the recruits.”

  “Are they going to start weapons drill soon?” Jasper asked, curious. He was very interested in joining them in training to show he was willing to undertake the same hardships they did. And he could certainly use the practice.

  “I expect we will begin in the next week or ten days, but I’m of a mind that they need more discipline before handling weapons with purpose. Ser Titus disagrees.”

  “Well, I was younger than most of them when I started training,” Titus said, shrugging.

  “And they don’t have half the instruction you did, Knight of House Erikeen,” Benn grunted, laying the sarcasm on thick. “They need proper discipline,” he said again, thumping the wood floor with his staff.

  “I think you both are right,” said Jasper. The two looked at him, eyebrows raised. He flushed a bit at Benn’s intense scrutiny but continued. “Well, I believe having something for them to throw themselves into will help focus their minds a bit. Plus, it wouldn’t hurt for those that are itching to prove themselves to have the opportunity to increase their skill. And more practice is better, isn’t it?” Titus nodded and looked at Benn for a reaction. The orc chewed his lip.

  “Hmm, I suppose you’re right, Lord. Very well. We’ll get them started with the basic drills. Say, first thing next week? They’ll be too tired to begin this week. When their bodies harden up a bit more and get used to the exertion, then they will be ready.”

  “That sounds good.” Jasper smiled and began removing his armor. “Where do we take these? Is there a washhouse? It wasn’t on the official tour.” Titus laughed and even Benn grinned.

  “This way, Lord,” said Jonno, the soldier that had been sparring with Titus at the start of the day. He beckoned for Jasper to follow through a side hall in the salle leading off, not far from Dool’s door into the armory. “We have the washroom in here. Hello Lukan,” he said, nodding to the page, who looked up and stood when he saw Jasper.

  “Milord,” he said, snapping a salute. He had been at work soaking the used armor in large wooden barrels with soapy water.

  “There is no need to salute, Lukan,” Jasper said. “Jonno here was just showing me how we get our gear cleaned up after a hard day’s work.”

  “Well ser, we typically let them go a few days to avoid washing every day,” Lukan said. “We’d spend more time washing than using them.”

  “That makes sense.” Jasper looked the young man over and knit his brows. “How’re things coming along for you, Lukan? Are you comfortable working for Master Benn?”

  “Oh, yes ser,” the boy nodded. “Master Benn is teaching me things on the side when we’re not busy with work—which isn’t much, but still.” He grinned.

  “Well, that is good. I’m glad you’re settling in. Let me know if you need anything, eh?”

  “Yes, Milord,” Lukan nodded, smiling. Jasper and Jonno dropped off their gear in the pile and began heading back out.

  “Benn said you were with a mercenary company, didn’t he?”

  “Yes ser, I came up from the south several years ago. I was fighting with the Storm Shields and decided I needed a change in scenery.” Jasper’s eyebrows went up with interest.

  “Really? I don’t know much about that group, but I remember the name from the history books.”

  “I was, Lord, for some seven years.” Jonno nodded curtly. “Heavy infantry fighters. Our specialty was sword and shield-work in close formation, but I was trained to ride and tilt a lance as well, if the need arose.”

  “That is very impressive, Jonno. I’m pleased to have experienced warriors at my side. If you’re as good as I’ve heard, I expect you’ll be given a squad of your own when our numbers begin to grow.” Jonno straightened a bit, a lopsided grin forming on his scarred lips.

  “I will do my best, ser.”

  “That is all any man can do,” Jasper smiled. He clasped the soldier’s arm, hand-to-wrist, and collected his sword before making his way back toward the Keep. Jasper took his time enjoying the mid-morning air until he passed back through the rear doors and passed through the private audience chamber. He heard movement and raised voices through the short passage leading to the Main Hall. He quickened his pace.

  He pushed through the last door and found several of the castle guards standing with a group of people he did not recognize. That would not have been concerning since Jasper had not spent nearly long enough at the Tower to become familiar with all the staff, but their fine clothes and jewelry indicated they were clearly outsiders. They were talking intently with Aesil and Vek, clearly arguing about something. Aesil’s arms were crossed over her chest, and Vek was feigning a bored expression, but Jasper saw how his fingers never strayed far from the weapons on his belt.

  “What’s this?” Jasper asked no one in particular. His soldiers turned and an expression of relief washed over both of them.

  “Oh, thank the gods you’re here, ser,” Aesil groaned. “These men are representatives of several guilds and have come bearing word of their masters’ intentions to meet with you.”

  “We come requesting an audience,” corrected one near the front in a red robe. His voice was cultured, clearly a man of high birth even without his finery. The smile he gave Jasper was a bit too slimy for the young lord’s taste.

  “It did not sound like a request,” Vek snorted. “Sounded like you throwing your master’s weight around.”

  “Who are you to say?” Slimy asked Vek before looking at Jasper and wrinkling his nose at the young man’s sweat-stained shirt. “And who are you? I asked for the new Lord of the estate.”

  “I am he,” Jasper said evenly. “Jasper McKenna, at your service.”

  Slimy’s eyes bugged and his mouth dropped open. Aesil smirked and raised her eyebrow at the man as if to say, “told you.” Jasper fought to keep a grin from his own face. Much as he enjoyed arrogance being smacked into line, he was not in a position to point and laugh. Gentle correction, however, was a thing he could manage. Especially in his own court.

  “My Lord, I—” the stunned man started, but Jasper waved away his stuttering apology.

  “Don’t think on it, but keep in mind I judge a person based on their actions and content of their character, not solely the way they are dressed.” The well-garbed messenger bowed, along with his three companions. Jasper looked to Aesil.

  “Where is Calian?”

  “I’m not sure, ser,” she said quietly, shaking her head. “We sent a runner for you both.” Just as she had finished speaking, the vampire appeared at Jasper’s elbow. His shirt and coat were perfectly pressed as always. Jasper noticed the short tails of his jacket fluttering gently with the speed of his movement.

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  “Ah, the guilds have sent their customary advance party,” Calian smiled icily at the four men. They looked even more uncomfortable at his presence than when Jasper scolded them. They would, Jasper supposed, considering what the steward was. He had to suppress another grin. “You have documents from your masters for my Lord, yes?”

  “Yes,” said Slimy, stepping forward. The scroll case in his hand shook slightly as he handed it over to Calian. The other three followed suit. Jasper noted the various crests that had been stamped into each leather cylinder. A coin, clearly indicating the Banking Guild, a head of wheat, a wagon wheel, and a pine tree. Jasper was unsurprised to see that the banks’ scroll had come from the opinionated man in front.

  “You will find there our Lord’s wish to meet and negotiate, possibly reestablishing greater trade within the region,” said another of the group. This man was younger, clean-shaven, with blonde hair pulled back into a short ponytail. He was also well-dressed but bore none of the ostentatious jewels his companion had. He wore a simple blue tunic and a gold chain adorned his neck.

  “Really?” Jasper said, eyebrows edging higher. “I was under the impression that many of the guilds wanted nothing to do with us.”

  “Not at all, my Lord,” smiled the man in blue. “Lack of trade is detrimental to everyone.”

  “Very true,” Jasper nodded. “What are your names, sers?”

  “I am Talas Kiban, my Lord.” He bowed respectfully. “I represent the Harvest Guild. This is Garand Rikson, with the Woodsmens’ Guild. Samen Orsan, with the Wagoners’ Guild. And lastly Loric Welden, of the Banking Guild.” Each of the men nodded. Loric’s bow was significantly lower than the others, as if he wanted to make up for his earlier rudeness.

  “I’m pleased to meet you all, and I would be happy to meet with your masters. As you said, Master Talas, trade benefits us all. Rebuilding it and good relationships between our neighbors is very high on my list of priorities.” He beckoned them to one of the long tables nearby. “Please sit, we will have food brought out. I am sure you’ve traveled quite some distance.”

  “Indeed we did, Lord,” nodded Samen. He was a man of middling years with a thick build and even thicker greying mustache. He took a place on the bench beside the table and braced his meshed hands on the surface before him. “Sailed around the Middle Mounts, up the river, then rode north from Southton.” He shook his head. “My father would turn in his grave if he saw the state of the roads.”

  “Is it that bad?” Jasper said, taking a seat opposite him. The other messengers joined them while Calian quietly called one of Harla’s staff for refreshment. “I knew there have been issues with lack of maintenance, but I was unsure of the severity.”

  “Long stretches of the road need reworking,” said the man. “Rain and wear have turned it to a sodden mess in the lower areas. Some are not so bad, but still need to be repaired.”

  “Is this a task we at the Tower are expected to take on?” Jasper was worried about yet another expense for which he had little coin to spare. Samen twirled his mustache and made a thoughtful expression while he considered it.

  “Not entirely, my Lord, no. We have engineers and talented folk capable of repairing the roads for the most part, but we require the permission and protection of the Lord of the land. Bandits can be a serious threat to a work party, you see?”

  “Ah, yes. Do you have any further insights?”

  “Truthfully, my Lord, I know only a little of what is required, but I am a simple messenger,” Samen shrugged.

  “I understand. Thank you for sharing your thoughts.” Jasper faced the other three. “I welcome all of your input, since you have more knowledge in your respective fields than I. I would like to know your opinions and what you observed of the land during your travels. I have yet to tour the region, but I plan to soon.”

  “Forest land is plentiful enough for certain,” said Garand, nodding enthusiastically. His blue eyes were bright, and his hands were callused from hard work over time, despite his obvious youth. “The amount of woods growing between here and Southton is impressive, and that is not even counting the Greenwood and the forests further northwest.”

  “I know there are many pines and hardwood trees in the Greenwood,” said Jasper. “What specific types of trees are your colleagues looking for?”

  “All kinds, but mostly iron oaks and pines for planking and beams. Oaks hold up best as supports for houses and pines are the easiest to transport due to their weight. Then there’s the water pines. They’re perfect for building boats and ships. Insects don’t eat them, and they last ten times longer in the water.”

  “I see,” Jasper said, nodding intently. “I suppose the areas thicker with these trees would be your guild’s primary interest, yes?”

  “Exactly.”

  “What about replanting? I assume they would be replanted after a cutting, to reproduce similar harvests in the years to come? That is how it was done where I am from.” Garand thought for a moment before continuing.

  “There is planting, but the replenishment of cut trees can take a significant amount of time. Uprooting old stumps, tilling the soil, etc. Thankfully there are some among the Forest Folk who contract with us to assist in regrowing harvested lumber.”

  “That sounds like quite the operation.”

  “Indeed it is, my Lord,” Garand nodded. “My family have been in the lumber and woodcutting business for generations. I am the twelfth Rikson serving the Guild, and my ancestor sat on the first Guild Council.”

  “We are fortunate to have a friend with such a storied pedigree,” Jasper smiled. Garand’s chest swelled with pride and his smile broadened. “And you, Talas, what do you think of our farmland?”

  “As my companion said, the soil is fertile and there is a great deal of acreage ripe for farming,” said the messenger. “The biggest problem with farming is the weather, and, well, having enough farmers.” He chuckled and the others shared in his laughter.

  “I was made aware we have a lack of field workers,” Jasper wearily. At that point, Calian and a few of the dwarven kitchen staff returned with wine, roast chicken, and cut greens from the gardens. The group settled in to eat and continued speaking about things they had observed during their journey and answering any questions Jasper had for them to the best of their ability. The young lord had intentionally left the more important bits of conversation to be had with the Banking Guild’s messenger until the end. Jasper addressed his guests once more. “My friends, I thank you for your company and enlightening discourse. Calian will have rooms made up for you to spend the night. You are my guests, and I intend to treat you as such. If you have any needs or concerns, please let me know or speak with Calian.”

  “Your hospitality is most appreciated,” Garand said, standing to bow. The others joined him, Loric a bit more stiffly than his comrades. Jasper held up a hand to the finely garbed messenger when the first three began to depart, holding him back.

  “A moment, Master Loric,” said Jasper.

  “Of course, Lord. Is there a problem?” Loric sounded a bit defensive. Jasper figured he might have been as well if he were shamed in front of traveling companions.

  “Not at all.” Jasper smiled cordially. “I thought it bad manners to discuss financial matters in front of all my guests.”

  “Ah. I see.” Loric nodded, relaxing somewhat.

  “Both you and your master will be glad to hear that I am in the process of accumulating a sum to begin repayment of the Tower’s outstanding debts, of which I know there are a great deal,” said Jasper, circling the table towards the other man so they could speak more easily. “I am a man of honor, and I repay what is owed.”

  “With the greatest respect, my Lord, the Guild does not trade in honor, nor good intentions,” Loric said quietly. His voice had lost some of its stiltedness, but he still managed to give off the air of having a rod wedged firmly up his backside. “The Guild trades in coin, Lord McKenna.”

  Jasper laughed, genuinely laughed in Loric’s face. The man’s head jerked back in surprise.

  “Loric, think about it. If a bank does not believe in the honor of a man’s word and the promise of his intent to repay a debt, lenders wouldn’t make a single copper.” Loric turned red at being so blatantly confronted. And if his silently opening and closing mouth were any indicator, he clearly did not have an answer for Jasper. The latter shook his head and rubbed a hand over his face.

  “Forgive my rudeness, Loric, I am tired from training today.”

  “I understand, my Lord,” Loric said stiffly. The rod seemed to have slipped just a bit higher.

  “I will have Calian draft documents for each of you to carry to your masters upon your departure,” Jasper continued. “I look forward to meeting with your colleagues and rebuilding a relationship with the guilds.”

  “They will be most pleased to hear it, Lord. If you will excuse me, the day has been long. I will retire.”

  “Of course.” Jasper nodded a dismissal and Loric marched himself up the main staircase to the guest rooms.

  “I don’t think you made a friend out of Loric, my Lord,” Vek said, stepping out from his hiding spot in the shadows. He watched the man disappear upstairs. Jasper started in surprise, but quickly recovered his composure.

  “My god, you’re almost as quiet as Calian,” he chuckled. “Have you been standing there this whole time?”

  “‘Someone either with him or within sight at all times,’ Captain Delgan said,” Vek nodded. “All respect, Lord, no secret business of yours is worth leaving you unguarded.”

  “Mm. I suppose you’re right. Calian can’t be everywhere after all.”

  “No, ser.”

  “Well, I’m glad to have someone so capable watching over me.” Vek smiled and followed him back to the Main Hall where Calian and the servers were cleaning up the table.

  “What did you think of them?” Jasper asked the steward, jerking his head toward the direction his guests had gone. Calian stacked plates and utensils while he thought the question over.

  “Loric is a bit of a stuffy elitist, as you may have noticed. This is not entirely unexpected, considering his cadre. His family is middling high-class—not noteworthy enough to warrant extra attention, but certainly not low-born. It will mean he likely intends to prove himself in one way or another; either to you, or his clan. Be wary of that one.”

  “I had planned to.” Jasper sighed. He had hoped to avoid intrigue and metaphorical chess for as long as possible, but it seemed the match had begun already. “What about the others?”

  “Talas’ folk have been in the grain business for many years, one of the reasons he is so knowledgeable on the subject. Garand’s family has also been quite invested in forestry as you saw, though for significantly longer. Samen is a more recent addition to the wagoners’ trade; his father joined the Guild, and now he follows in his sire’s footsteps. They are good men in breeding and temperament, from honorable families. I would say to trust them for now, though it is always wise to hold judgement until more evidence comes to light. They may surprise us.” Calian looked up from his work, expertly balancing a stack of bowls and plates with apparent ease. He wore a slight smirk. “Not openly discussing the Tower’s finances in front of them all was a wise choice, even if they likely already know.”

  “I thought so as well,” Jasper agreed. “It’s bad manners to talk about money problems at dinner.” There was a twinkle of amusement in Calian’s dark eyes.

  “Indeed so.” Harla opened a side door, wiping her hands on her apron as she entered the Hall. She tutted at the vampire, shaking her head.

  “Calian, either do dishes or advise our Lord and let Leiri finish,” she scolded, waving at the pretty dwarf maid standing by with a cart to carry dirty tableware back to the scullery. Leiri blushed, not expecting such direct attention, but smiled. Calian bowed to the cook.

  “Your wish is my command, Lady Harla,” he said, not a hint of sarcasm in his voice. She crossed her arms and shook her head again as he ushered Leiri out through the door Harla had entered. “We’ll leave you to your lessons.”

  Calian disappeared into the servant’s passage.