Well, here I am with another continuation of the saga I am writing for Tellius. This one is a tad different from my other stories because the focus is going to be more on an original character from a previous story, Regrets, and more on intrigue rather than fight scenes. That is not toe say that there will not be established characters or some swordplay, but less then other stories. Please enjoy.
Geoffrey knew that his young ward must have spent the entire night up again, judging from the unmolested sheets he found on the bed. While most 'parents' would be concerned to find their ward drinking in unsavory company and whoring around the seedy district, Geoffrey's adopted child stayed inside when he was up all night. Well, most of the time. He did recall one unsavory time he had to walk down to a pub to drag him and Malakov, the self proclaimed champion of vice, by the ear to the castle well after midnight.
The said child was not far from the bed, next to the embers found in the hearth to ward off the cold of Spring's eve. Laid out on the expensive rug like a house animal, the maturing boy was surrounded by at least a dozen books of varying subjects. An open book of metallurgy was in front of his head, along with the tome Sieges and City Battles from the Creation of Daein to Crimea by the famed historian Telion Magar. The boy snored quietly, his head with short brown hair rising and falling with the breaths.
It wouldn't take much to wake him up. But the lad had missed breakfast and a few important anouncements. And Geoffrey saw it as a waste to pour this fine ale over the boy's head. So he decided a swift boot to the shin was the better route.
The response was instantaneous with the child rolling over with screwed eyes that slowly opened. Hazelnut irises looked into Geoffrey's own, and for a moment Geoffrey thought he saw the older brother to his ward looking back at him. The passion of drawing his blade to thrust down into the heart of that scum flashed across his being, but Goeffrey reminded himself that it was not Ludveck who rose with a mumbled good morning. It was Marek, no threat here.
"You were late for breakfast. Again." Geoffrey stated in a matter of fact tone as Marek smoothed the wrinkles out of his robes. "Still, I saved some of the meal for you. Half a loaf of oat bread, some smoked northern salmon, a rasher of bacon, two duck eggs, blueberry preserves mixed with honey, and a pitcher of smoked ale." He laid the heavy plate on a small table that would fit two adults, or one adult and two other children easily enough which was often how Marek would use the table.
"Thank you, my lord. Please, sit and enjoy some of it with me." Marek was, to his credit, a rather polite boy who treated everyone he met with respect and humility. Perhaps it was part of his normal demeanor, though Geoffrey thought it more of everyone reminding Marek that he was the brother of a confessed traitor, and thus less than nothing in their eyes. So perhaps the lad tried to change their minds with hospitality and kindness. If that was the case, then there was little success achieved.
Geoffrey sat down on the other chair and tore the oat loaf into two equal halves. Taking one for himself, he dipped the bread into the yolk of the duck egg before he took a bite out of it. The young lordling, on the other hand, seemed almost famished and began to devour his food without care for proper decorum given the informal setting for the meal.
Every day, Geoffrey wondered why he took up the responsibility to sire this young man and his brothers. His older brother, Ludveck, was a traitor and a rapist. Why Elincia chose to spare the monster rather than taking his head from his shoulders, a responsibility Geoffrey would have enjoyed to carry out, was a mystery even for him. Did the Queen not know of the wounds his beloved sister carried with her, both visible and those that cannot be seen? Did she realize what he did to her, the true horrors? That she was perhaps forced to care for a living reminder of her dishonor?
Geoffrey mentally shook the thought away. Paris was his nephew, and even if he did share blood with that… craven he had just as much of his sister's blood flowing through his veins. He needed to be the loving uncle to take care for him. Just as he needed to make sure that Marek did not turn into his older brother, if anything to become more like Sicarius the Tall, the father of his ward.
"Are you making process with the lessons given by Bastian?" Geoffrey asked with the hope that conversation would clear these thoughts from his head.
Marek nodded as he shoveled the last of his salmon and duck egg into his mouth. He chewed and swallowed before he answered. "Very well. He is teaching me the manner of statesman ship for the various nations in the contin. Or rather how they were since the upheaval in Begnion three years ago and reform is hard to predict. The only down side is that it does get a little hard to keep him on a single subject for more than three minutes. He often bursts into jester like theatrics when explaining things or starts playing solitaire with long pauses in conversation as he focuses on the game."
"Goddess, he still does that? It was a pain during the Mad King's War when he would just pull out some tiles during a tactics meeting and would just play while we were discussing the next battle." Geoffrey stated with some incredulous tone to his voice.
"Yes, he does. Though if there is one part that irks me to no end. When ever he talks about that part of Crimean history," the empaths placed on the word 'that' was enough to realize what he was speaking of, "he goes off the deep end. Exaggerating what exactly my brother did, the motives, responsibility, and even the attitude. It is almost insulting to me, and I despise my brother just as much as you do."
It was true. Ludveck's insurgency has almost always been over exaggerated, a feat even Geoffrey was surprised with that such a thing could be done. Rather than focus on his misguided patriotism to the nation of Crimea and perhaps the idea that he wanted the power for himself, many histories instead portrayed Ludveck as a debauched craven who either wanted the world to burn or to rule it all for himself. Greed and a thirst to blood were invented based on the hearsay of those supposedly from his household, and anyone who disagreed with this portrayal of history… well, slander was a tame word for the response.
Having bled and almost died during both of the major engagements of the rebellion, Geoffrey took it upon himself to hammer out those misplaced facts into the new recruits. Ludveck was a traitor and a man who sexually assaulted his sister, but he was the embodiment of misplaced pride. No one was immune to that and they didn't need an extraordinary villain to explain that. "Apologies. I will make sure to have a conversation with Bastian about that when I have a chance to be alone in a secluded place where my yelling will not be noted. Unfortunately, that will not be able to be soon. If you attended breakfast today, you would learn of a Daien royal visit is occurring soon."
"Royal visit?" Marek asked as he placed a little preserves on his smoked bacon followed by the ale to wash the meal down. "I thought Queen Elincia wanted to cut back on unnecessary expenses in response to last month's raids. If Her Majesty Queen Micaiah visits, I have no doubt she will bring quite the entourage. They will need to be fed, housed, and pampered. I doubt the mead makers would offer up their botched batches and butchers will give even the lowest cuts of meat freely if the Queen wanted it."
"This isn't a royal visit in the traditional sense," Geoffrey responded as he unhooked a pewter mug from his belt and poured himself some of the ale. "Yes, the expected guests are… larger than I expected though they are bringing some of their gold dragons to subsidize the expenses." Geoffrey used the official term for Daein coins, a currency worth roughly the same as Crimea's Floral that only the most stringent banker would know the difference between the values. "There will be no parade to welcome them, nor a tourney with handsome rewards. However, there will be feasts and Elincia has been insistent that there be some games to entertain the masses as well as our new guests."
He handed Marek a rolled up piece of paper containing more in-depth information about the visit. "Arriving in three days… sixty members along with respected guards, scribes, and assorted support personnel for almost three hundred... a football match between the Royal Knights and the Melior deme, goddess that is hooliganism waiting to happen… quarter is to be in the castle and inns not far from the palace… expected stay is one week." He folded the paper back up and handed it back to Geoffrey, who took a drink of the ale with a nod of thanks. "I pity the poor sod who is in charge of this."
Geoffrey chuckled. "Then I hope you enjoy self-pity, because that sod is you."
"I beg your pardon." Marek said in a simple flat tone, the type to be heard if someone had just said winter was warmer then summer.
"I asked the queen to give you the responsibility of overseeing the stay of these dignitaries. If/when you are in charge of Felirae as your own keep, this is something that will be done quite often. Perhaps not having a foreign ruler visit, but other members of the nobility and clergy. Many of the servants will take care of the making sure that the items you request will be there. Chefs and others will prepare the meals, servants will make sure the beds are ready, and the Knights will be looking forward to a game. You, however, have to make sure that they know what is to be done and that the arrangements are in place." Geoffrey explained as he took a long drink from his mug.
"Sometimes I think you give me the shite jobs no one really wants and attach some lesson to make it seem that you are teaching me something." Marek responded as he looked down into his glass aimlessly before throwing his head back to finish off the last of it.
"Well, if you bollocks it up, you can't be a bigger disappointment to many then you already are."
"Your confidence in me is overwhelming, Lord Commander." Marek responded to Geoffrey's deadpan humor with an eye roll. Before he could speak another word, his door opened and a striking woman came in. Long indigo hair fell freely and a light blue tunic with straps of leather and chainmail offered some protection though it was clear that she intended to fight with her agility rather than strength alone. A fresh silver pin depicting a rose was upon her left breast, showing that her knighthood was a new commission. Though who she was, and the recent trophy she brought back so Tibarn could add it to the Walk, Marek was one who considered such appointment well overdue. He rose from his chair and bowed his head in respect while also offering said chair to his new guest. "My Lady."
Mia gave the young lordling a warm, white smile and took the seat offered. Marek then quickly walked over to a side table where other mugs stood. He grabbed one and brought it over to Mia and poured the last of the smoked ale into it for her to enjoy. "Such manners from a fine young man. You must have been teaching him well, Commander."
Geoffrey chuckled and wiped his face off with a napkin. "How rude of me. Marek, I believe you already know this young lady. Mia Twinmoons will be your new fencing instructor and introduction to household guard. She is a Royal Knight first and foremost, but such a time like this offers the perfect opportunity to know what it is like to have the true wet run of lordship."
Geoffrey rose from his seat and took the plates along with the empty pitcher of beer as he headed for the door. "Come visit me later today and I will have a list of all the things required for the visit and who to contact for them. I hope you step up to challenge, for your sake as well as others."
Geoffrey closed the door behind him, Marek listened as the footsteps trailed off into the distance. "I think he actually is starting to enjoy your company." Mia stated and Marek couldn't help but laugh. He walked over to the pile of books he fell asleep next to and picked up a few ones along with the inkwell as well as some pieces of parchment already drawn upon.
"Yeah, it is the better mood I have seen him in for some time." Marek stated as he sat down in the chair that Geoffrey left, placing the various books open to the book marked pages and within moments he began to scratch down several notes. "Who sent you though?" He asked Mia while still looking down on his notes. "Geoffrey, Elincia, Bastian? Who sent you to be their little bird in my daily affairs?"
"I was told by Geoffrey to be your teacher and advisor. Are you always this paranoid or just rude?" Mia asked with an annoyed tone.
"Forgive me then, madam. When half the kingdom sees you less than a branded bastard born of incest and the other half wants you out of the way, it is a little hard to take people at their face value. Nor does such a legend as yourself find themselves in a glorified babysitting position lend credence to the idea that someone is coming on their own free will with the best of intentions." Marek stated matter of factly as he let his mind wander. It was a phrase he had repeated many times over since he found himself a ward of the Delbrey house.
While he didn't remember much about the aftermath of his brother's rebellion, he had expected to be exiled along with his brother or stripped immediately of all lands and all titles to wander as a beggar. So when Geoffrey came and visited them in their small room that was almost a cell with the message that he would raise them, he expected it to be a path paved with shattered glass. He wasn't far off, always being looked down upon by many with insults and spit flying at him from those who were not of the Royal Family, Delbrey, or quite a few Northern nobility. Though the lessons they were taught were ones that would be applied to daily life as well as matters of lordship for the unified twin empires.
Now, three years later and with manhood within sight, Marek knew that the unified Crimea told to him constantly was a half-truth and his ascension based on his own works was as fictitious as Bastian's tale of the rebellion. The independent, pragmatic North hated pious and federation minded South, the West called the East xenophobic while the former yelled branded breeder. The Bird Tribes were another mess all together, their extended lifespans rolling eyes at the quarrels of what they perceived as minor details. And at the center of this storm was him and his brothers hoping to earn their ancestral lands back and assume the place they held prior to three years ago.
A royal visit from Daein, a nation who a… colorful history in the past decade had meant that there would be a great gathering of the lords and ladies from the united Crimean and Bird Tribe Empire. Enough so that the vote for his ascension would be a certainty. Some would point to him and say he is nothing more than his brother while others say he carries more of his father than Ludveck ever did.
Father and brother? Were these to be his measuring stones in life? Be more like the dead or the exile? Could he not be his own individual? Was the fact who had the same blood in his veins matter more than his own actions?
His thoughts were interrupted when Mia took his empty mug, uncorked a wineskin that was around her waist and poured a little into his glass. "You seem to be in sour thoughts. They go away when you have a little wine in the belly." Marek took the glass and drank some of the harsh but sweet liquid. He looked back down to the measurements, sketches, and instructions he had written.
A party had to be thrown, but there would still be plenty of time to himself. Time well spent with the smiths who valued skill rather than name. Time to spend with sweat, fire, and honest labor that betrayed no one because of their name. It would be the place he would create the emblem for his new rule.
An emblem, as well as a weapon.