Book 3, Chapter 43 Rewrite

I strode into Plimgus Manor as if I owned the place. Oh, wait—I did own the place. The thought brought a faint smirk as the heavy doors thudded shut behind me, sealing out the bite of the northern wind.

The entrance hall carried the familiar scent of warm, smoky scent of oil lamps, mingling with the cold, dusty odor of old stone. My boots clicked sharply across the uneven flagstones, echoing up into the high rafters.

The steward appeared as if summoned—stiff, gray, and formal as always. He bowed at the waist..

"My lord. He awaits you in the study."

He turned, and I followed him down the corridor. My fingers brushed lightly along the smooth stone walls.

I'm the count, and Frederick has a better-built manor. Something is wrong with this.

Tapestries hung at even intervals—once-bright hunting scenes now faded to tired shades of green and red.

The steward opened the study door and departed without a word.

Fredrick Vaspar sat hunched over the desk, shoulders tense beneath a simple linen shirt. A myriad of writing surfaces were spread across the table. Parchment paper and even birch covered every surface like the aftermath of a bureaucratic battle. Morning light streamed through the tall window to his right, giving sharp relief to the dark hollows beneath his eyes.

I stepped inside without knocking.

"You look like you're having loads of fun," I said.

"Oh, it's you," he murmured without looking up.

Then, after a moment, he exhaled heavily and finally glanced my way. "You want to go spar? I need to hit someone."

I raised a brow. "That bad, huh?"

"If the man weren't already dead," he said, pushing paperwork aside, "I'd recommend you kill him again. He was a thief and a wastrel."

"I could go get his body and we could chop off his head," I offered.

He gave me a tired glare. "Whoever you marry is going to have an awful time of it. Because you, sir, are incorrigible."

That broke the tension. We both laughed.

I leaned against the edge of the desk. "So what about Natalie and her kids?"

"They're gone," he said, rubbing his eyes. "One good thing about the thief—he set enough money aside that we can repay her dowry fully if we choose. And all the jewelry he bought her is still here."

"Well, at least that's wrapped up. And Saran?"

He straightened a little. "Sharp woman. Knows how to play her cards. She provided information about the family. Helped us track who stole what. Some of the taxes meant for the crown were diverted to Plimgus's father."

I clicked my tongue. "Probably paying off whoever got him this lordship. I would've discovered it eventually when I audited the books. They probably thought I'd be gone—or dead—by then."

Fredrick shrugged. "Likely."

"So no trouble from the girl?"

"She's a noble. She'll always hold something back. But she's given enough. Earning her trust fully will take time. Bringing her brother home will help."

I nodded. "And now it's my turn. What about the king's army?"

"Malcomp convinced them they weren't needed. Only the commanders are coming. They expected to go all the way to Bicman or North Cove. Meeting them here is wise."

"Don't I know it," I said. "I've heard plenty about what bored soldiers get up to. When do they arrive?"

"A messenger arrived just before you. They'll be here by supper."

"Excellent. We'll prepare a delicious feast… and give them the most uncomfortable rooms in the manor. Then send them away at dawn."

Fredrick's grin sharpened. "Shrewd."

He pushed away from the desk and cracked his knuckles. "Now, about that spar?"

********

Later that day I once again found myself sitting on the high-backed chair that Plimgus had sat in when he first greeted me. This time, I was the only noble in the room.

The steward entered the room and bowed. Rising up, he said, "Count Amos, I present to you Commander Betlin and his two adjuncts, Sir Harbis and Sir Tilkman."

All three of them bowed, though Tilkman seemed to hesitate before doing so and only half as low as he should. It was obvious that there was a lack of respect for me. Was it because I was a country noble, or did he have issues with me personally? It was obvious that he wanted me to know he did not think highly of me. Perhaps he was testing me or trying to provoke me. Did he think he was protected because he was from the capital, and I was from the far end of the kingdom?

I would have to see how this all played out. No need to kick the hornet's nest just yet.

"I greet you, Commander Betlin. It is an honor to have members of the king's own army in my manor. I have to admit I was quite surprised to find out that you were in my lands. It was very gracious of the king to send you to my county in our time of need."

"From what I have been told, my lord. Our presence was not even necessary. How did you manage to defeat such a large army?"

"I can take very little credit myself, Commander," I said with a casual wave. "It is my men to whom we owe the safety of the barony. They sacrificed their lives so that my people could sleep in peace. But let us not speak of such things now. We have prepared a feast for you. Let us adjourn to the dining room where we may sup."

I stood, and that was enough to cause the current discussion to stop, and we made our way to the table in the next room, where we really had pulled out all the stops. A whole pig was sitting in the center of the table. If they were in season, I would have put an apple in its mouth. Here, they put a block of wood or an onion in the mouth to prop it open; apparently, it lets the heat circulate better. We had a root vegetable soup. A thick wheat bread and honeyed cakes. As well as a variety of other side dishes.

It felt like a waste, but on the positive note, not only would there be enough left over for our highest servants, but all of the servants would get a taste of this feast. I think we may even be able to hand out some to the peasants. The practice of giving to the servants was common here, but to give to the poor was not done in most noble houses. Just another thing that made me seem odd.

"My lord, we were alerted that ten ships sailed out of Vaspar heading this way. How did you manage to repel such a force?" Sir Tilkman said, interrupting a casual conversation between Commander Betlin and me. Was he annoyed? Was it that we had survived or that they didn't get to participate in the fighting?

The commander looked sharply at the adjunct, but still backed him up. "Forgive his rudeness, but it has been a long journey. He does have a point, though it is a question we have all been wondering."

"That was a blessing of the Endless One. I received word from a priestess of the Endless One that there may be an attack on my lands before my journey to Kimton last year. I verified that the information was credible in Kimton. So we prepared for the attack well in advance. As they say, forewarned is forearmed."

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"A good phrase if I have ever heard one," the commander said.

"Who warned you?" Tilkman demanded.

"The duke's own steward. He had no definitive evidence, but he asked his son to retreat from Bicman just in case. That was good enough for me, and so we moved forward with our preparations."

"You took the word of a traitor?"

"Tilkman! That was out of line. You are questioning the decision of a count on a matter he was, in fact, correct about. Do not make me regret bringing you here. Please forgive his rudeness, my lord," Commander Betlin said.

"Because you ask it of me, I will not demand satisfaction. But I will nonetheless explain my reasoning for trusting the man. I believe the steward was executed prematurely. I believe he was a man of honor and loyal to the crown. First and foremost, because he was willing to share the information he had gathered so that we might prepare. He assisted in defending my county. If he were a traitor, he would have kept it secret. Next, concerning the matter of his involvement in driving the duke insane… why would a man who served the duke faithfully for so many years choose that moment to act? And if he were some hidden agent, he would have been careful for decades. Do you think he would make an obvious blunder like leaving evidence in his room?"

"You believe the investigators were not thorough enough?" Tilkman asked, his tone shifting to something more controlled.

"I believe it was a matter of politics. Why kill him so quickly? Why was he not handed over to the king? Even if I wasn't sure of his character, there are too many unanswered questions—and that smells of politics. I do have a question of my own. Sir Tilkman… your name sounds familiar. I think I may have heard it during one of the parties in Kimton. Might you have notable relatives there?" I asked, lying through my teeth just to see who he was connected to.

His voice was flat and even. "You must be mistaken. My lineage can be traced back to Githum. I am a second cousin once removed of the noble house."

Hmm. Githum. I didn't know much, only that the duke was rumored to be in league with the council.

"Well enough of this. Let me tell you what you really want to hear. Traps and trickery."

I let a smile stretch across my lips and waited a beat.

"You see, when defending or attacking a large predator, you never do so head-on. Even if you win, you may get injured. So you use snares. We created such a snare. We built an enticing fort on the cove—stocked it with alcohol, soft beds, and luxuries, even a small house for their leadership. Enough food to make it look like we could last a siege. But we only placed a few men inside. When the Rabiss arrived earlier than expected—and with far more numbers—our retreat looked all the more believable."

Tilkman shifted, suppressing what was probably a scoff. I ignored him.

"Once night fell and they'd drunk themselves senseless, we triggered the trap. The exits sealed. A false floor concealed a crawlspace packed with oil-soaked wood and sawdust. When we lit the piles beneath, the fort became an inferno in seconds. We hoped to capture their entire force, but unfortunately, of the nearly seven hundred raiders, we only took about half."

Sir Harbis mouthed three hundred and fifty, his eyes wide. At least one of them could do math.

"Most ships fled with skeleton crews. Around a hundred raiders remained. Two possible routes—but we trapped both. They tried to scale the ridge. When they reached the ravine, we rolled boulders down. Survivors fled straight into a hail of arrows. We captured the rest. I have the full report ready for the king. It details losses and outcomes. Unfortunately, my men are mostly untrained, so our casualties are higher than I care to admit." (A lie, but a useful one.)

Commander Betlin nodded slowly. "A truly amazing story, my lord. You are more than you seem. At first glance, with your build, I thought you a warrior—but now I see you are also a tactician."

I chuckled. "I wish I could take all the credit, but many men worked on the plan and even more on making it a reality. The true credit goes to those who defended our home."

"I admit I also find it interesting," Tilkman said coolly. "But I must ask—what about the rumors of Oceanside and Lord Plimgus? Was it truly left undefended? Did you let raiders take an entire village?" The slight curl of his lip was as subtle as a knife in the back.

Enough.

"Once again, you overstep yourself. If you think me too dim to hear the accusation behind your words, then you are the fool. You accuse me of neglecting my duty as a count and as protector of my people. I demand satisfaction."

Commander Betlin's jaw tightened. "I second this course of action. Adjunct, you will accept this challenge—and afterward we shall see to your punishment."

Tilkman looked me up and down with a faint sneer. "I accept the challenge."

"Excellent," I said, smiling wickedly. "Let me call for my champion."

Shock rippled across all three faces.

"Lord Fredrick has been itching for a fight," I said. "I believe this will be… quite interesting."

*******

The sun sat low on the horizon as we made our way out to the practice fields. No one spoke. The insult was given, and the man refused to retract his words. Nor would I accept repentance if he offered it. It isn't like they did duels to the death here. But when it came to this jerk, I was almost sorry they didn't.

I guess having Fredrick beat him down would be fun to see. I had no idea how a trained soldier from the capital would fare against the son of Count Vaspar. If Fredrick didn't win, at least I would get to see that cocky grin wiped off his face. I won either way.

Yes, I had originally planned on keeping Fredrick out of sight, but no matter what, it wouldn't last, so why not have a little fun?

Fredrick had stepped into the roped-off training yard. His face was serious, but I could tell he was excited for this. An opportunity to test yourself against a capital soldier was not something you get to do every day. Fredrick stood just inside the rope, rolling one shoulder, stretching his neck.

Sir Tilkman strode confidently into the ring. Waving his wooden sword back and forth as if getting used to the weight.

I allowed the commander to start the fight. "Lord Vaspar and Sir Tilkman, you know the rules. Begin!"

Tilkman started on the offensive. First, with light and quick probing attacks meant to gauge Fredrick's defences. I had to admit, even from these first attacks, he was a professional, and I would have had no chance against him.

"You keep a narrow guard. Too cautious. Open your stance or you'll find yourself cornered." Tilkman said as if giving kindly advice, but the undertone of mockery was apparent. Frederick kept his face impassive.

On his next attack, Frederick flicked Tilkman's sword aside with a quick parry and, using the deflection, he redirected his own sword, creating a downward strike that slashed across Tilkman's thigh. Having been at the receiving end of Fredrick's strikes, I winced as Fredrick retreated to a guard position.

If these hadn't been wooden swords, Tilkman may have already been down on one knee. Instead, he retreated in surprise. Instead, his face turned to one of concentration.

He started to add feints. They circled again. This time, Tilkman struck harder. His blows came faster now—diagonals, overhead, a quick jab meant to rattle Fredrick's rhythm. It didn't. As he attempted to create openings, Fredrick batted each of them aside, shifting his feet ever so slightly as he waited with the patience of a snake.

"You favor simplicity," Tilkman muttered, feigning amusement as Fredrick tagged him on the shoulder. "Useful, in a spar. Less so in war."

Personally, I thought the exact opposite was true.

Suddenly, Fredrick shifted to the offensive. Either having seen enough to take the man's measure or seeing an opportunity he couldn't pass up. I realized how easy Fredrick was going on me during our spars. There was a quick strike to Tilkman's shoulder followed by a hit to his wrist as he tried to step back.

Tilkman's eyes flared. His inability to defend against Fredrick's superior skill was frustrating him. I almost felt sorry for the man, having been on the receiving end of Fredrick's painful lessons. He lunged, low sweep, followed by a rising arc aimed at Fredrick's neck.

Fredrick turned with it, caught the blade on the flat of his own, and pivoted low. His leg swept Tilkman's ankle from under him, and the knight crashed backward. Before he could rise, Fredrick tapped his helm with the point of his wooden sword.

Tilkman himself is halfway up.

"I… yield," he said in a growl.

I took way more pleasure out of that than I should have. I tried to control my expression as I said, "I expect a written apology on my desk by morning, and you are no longer welcome at my table. Commander, we have things to discuss, but they can wait until morning."

If his Commander had not been on my side, then it was an insult I wouldn't have given, but the dude needed to be put in his place. I turned to leave as soon as Fredrick came up to me. "Good work. I hope that satisfies your blood lust for a while and you can refrain from bludgeoning me for a few days."

He gave me a wolfish grin. "On the contrary, I just saved you from an embarrassing defeat. You owe me at least two extra spars."

I sighed, "You're going to be the death of me."

He chuckled, "Any idea what that was about? Being high up in the king's army doesn't make him immune to punishment."

After relaying everything Sir Tilkman had said to me, Fredrick shook his head. "It doesn't really make sense to me. It looks like he was pushing just enough to upset you without receiving more than a stern rebuke."

I thought for a moment, "Besides you, how many people here do you think could have beaten him in a duel?"

"None," Fredrick said in a cocky tone that made me want to smack him. After watching the fight, though, I had to agree.

"So I think he was pushing to see how far I would go, and he was confident that I would not demand satisfaction since no one here could beat him. If I did demand a duel, it would just allow him to embarrass me.

Fredrick nodded, "He, or someone in the capital, wanted to test what you are made of. Pretty typical behavior for a noble. It might have even been Commander Betlin."

I hadn't thought of that. Betlin could have told him to push me to see what I was made of. Then, once they were out of sight, give Tilkman his punishment. Ugh, people were annoying.

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