B3 Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Lucan leaned on the writing table, his eyes on the map but his mind elsewhere. Thomas and Cordell were standing around the table with him, while his father had taken the lord’s seat. Lucan had guided him to it out of respect, even if the former lord hadn’t intended to claim it.

“It won’t be long now,” Thomas said.

Lucan’s father only grunted in agreement.

“It matters not,” Cordell said. “None will march in winter.”

“Perhaps not,” Lucan said. “But we will still have to respond when Duke Elmere’s riders arrive with demands. We have already ignored his bird.”

“We ought to decide,” his father said. “After King Dane’s passing, Prince Oswin is the rightful heir, since His Majesty did not name another.”

“No,” Lucan said. “We will not throw our lot in with Duke Elmere and his kingmaking schemes. All that would await us would be endless conflict against the North.”

“We are bound by duty,” Lord Golan said.

“To which king?” Lucan said. “Duke Elmere has crowned Oswin, and Lord Marquel has crowned Esmond. We have two kings.”

“I said–”

“It is not so simple,” Lucan interrupted his father. “We have to contend with bloodthirsty Wildermen from the south at the best of times, and ambitious ones at the worst. Championing one of two royal claimants is not our only duty, Father.” He turned to Thomas. “What do you suppose they are doing now?”

“Riders would be going in every direction,” Thomas said. “Rousing lords, who will be raising men ready to fight by spring. With bursting granaries and ample time to prepare, spring and summer promise to be bloody seasons.”

“If the South were to join this flesh-grinding war,” Lucan said, “we will be open to incursions from the Wildermen, and perhaps even outlaws from the Shattered Kingdom.”

“Then what do you propose we do?” his father asked.

“We send our own riders to the lords of the South,” Lucan said. “We must unite and announce our neutrality. We have one duty that precedes any other, to prevent incursions from the enemies of Barwalis. We must stay true to this duty, and if we stand together, we can fend off any attempts to press us into service by force.”

His father scoffed. “Unacceptable.”

“Well, it is what I will do, Father.”

A moment of quiet weighed down the study before his father spoke two words. “Leave us.”

Thomas and Cordell glanced at each other, then promptly left. It didn’t escape Lucan that they didn’t look to him for leave. With pressed lips, he turned towards his father and waited.

“Again, you intend to play these games,” the man said. “But this time, such games are treason, Lucan.”

“They are not,” Lucan explained. “Our duty here is to protect the borderlands. There is no clear king–”

“There is a clear king,” his father raised his voice. “King Dane had no son to whom he could pass the crown. Prince Oswin is the eldest male in the king’s line. He is king.”

Lucan guffawed. “What if he was the one who poisoned the king, Father? By noble law, his birthright would be forfeit.”

“Then Prince Esmond would be the rightful king,” his father said, as though it was a simple matter.

“But we don’t know,” Lucan said, his own voice rising beyond what he’d intended. “Why should we chance throwing our lot in with regicide?”

“Because it is our duty to protect the crown.”

Lucan huffed. “You have passed your title unto me. You must trust that I know how to see to such duties.”

“Your wits are obviously mired in fog,” his father said. “Or worse, you are deaf to wisdom by choice.”

“Regardless, Father, the decision is mine as lord,” Lucan said with finality.

His father scoffed again, leaning over the table with a fist. “Do you think that if I were to call the men to me, they would not come? That if I were to decide I want my title again, I would not be able to take it back?”

Lucan’s face hardened, and he went quiet for a heartbeat. Then his words burst out. “You may do as you wish, Father. But if you decide to take back what you have given, you better find yourself a wife and sire another heir, for I am not a toy you can throw a mantle on and take it back whenever you wish.”

His father was silent for the longest time since they began, but eventually, he shook his head and sighed. “Why do you fight so hard for this, Lucan?” His voice was soft this time, tired.

“Because it may yet decide how long we hold this seat and this title, and it may even decide how mortal we prove to be in the coming years.”

Lord Golan huffed and leaned back in his seat. “You may do as you wish, Son, but remember what I told you once. The consequences are yours and yours alone.”

“They are.” Lucan nodded. “And I will bear them.”

His father got to his feet, walking around the writing table and to the door with an ease born of familiarity with the study. After he left the study for his chamber, Thomas and Cordell were quick to step back inside. All three of them stood around the map once again, thoughts no doubt storming through their minds.

“What are we to do?” Cordell asked.

“More patrols to the north,” Lucan answered. “And send riders to Sirs Wolfe, Upton, and Ryder. Invite them to Silvergate for a matter most pressing.”

“Aye, my lord,” Cordell said. And Lucan saw Thomas nodding in approval. He must’ve understood his purpose. If they were to begin with this plan of his, they would have to get their closest allies behind them first.

“And Lord Arden?” the steward asked after a moment.

“Send a rider to him as well, but this one ought to tell him that I will be visiting him in a few days’ time. I doubt the old lord can even walk out of the Needles’ gates, let alone ride all the way here.”

His two aides seemed in agreement. “I will have the riders sent,” Cordell said, turning on his heel once Lucan gave him a nod.

After the sergeant-at-arms left, Lucan turned to the old steward. “What would you have of this?”

Thomas sighed, as though weighed down by a question he’d wished left unasked. “Some may say the path you are taking is wise. Safe. But I do not believe it is without its perils.”

“Is there something more perilous than war?” Lucan retorted.

“No,” the steward said without delay. “That is why I have not objected.”

Lucan only responded with a hum, then he turned his mind to other affairs. There was nothing to do now but wait for their allies. “Are there, perhaps, matters of a more tame nature to apprise me of?”

Thomas nodded. “Sawyer has laid the foundation for a dungeon, but he laid it underground once he found that our guards might need proper quarters. He intends to build a barracks on top of it.”

“Let him,” Lucan said with a tilt of the head. “It is proper, and it will save us land. We would have needed the guards to keep an eye on the dungeon regardless. On the matter of the guards, how have our ten been acquitting themselves?”

“Not badly, I would say.” The old steward shrugged. “There was an incident where one of the guards injured a peasant with his spear when a brawl got out of hand. The farmer is still recovering and can’t make proper use of his arm until harvest. I have impressed upon the men since then to only use their bladed weapons when pressed by necessity. Otherwise, their cudgels ought to do.” Lucan nodded in agreement. He hadn’t recruited the guards so he could end up with more wounded among his people instead of less. “However,” Thomas continued. “It bears mentioning that they have been stretched thin patrolling both the town proper and the fields.”

“How many more would you have us recruit?” Lucan said.

“Ten at least.”

“You may have them.” Lucan gestured with an open hand. “Merchants will be flooding us by harvest.” He frowned. “Though, I suppose that will be the last time trade will be so vigorous, considering what is to come.” He met Thomas’s eyes, which recognized the gravity of the coming war with similar severity.

“Indeed,” the steward said. “We will have to make do with less fortunes after winter.”

“If we succeed in uniting the south, there will at least be a strip of land safe enough for merchants to travel,” Lucan said. “Perhaps we can have some arrangements made. I will have to think on this matter.”

“As you say,” Thomas said with a nod. “But, may I suggest something regarding this alliance?”

Lucan gestured for him to speak.

“There needs to be a certain legitimacy to it beyond protecting borders that don’t stand threatened at this very moment. And there’s only one thing more holy than a crown in the Elder Lands…”

Lucan raised his brows. “The Elder Roots.”

“One pierces the skies not too far from here,” the old steward said with a tone that prompted thought.

“Indeed,” Lucan said, his mind latching on to the meaning quickly. “Nothing frightens nobles and commoners alike more than the fate of the Shattered Kingdom.” The steward nodded at that. “If our pronounced duty was not only to protect the border but also to protect the Elder Root from an all-too-familiar fate, then we may have an easier time earning the support of the other lords.”

“Precisely.”