Chapter Three-Hundred Twenty-Eight

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Rezlar

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He feels… good.  He would even go so far as to say he feels great!  Thoughts of the future still make him nervous, but not the kind of paralyzing fear he used to feel.  He thinks it might be because he actually feels like he can affect what will happen, now.  For a long time, it felt like the entire course of his life was plotted out by his father.  It had seemed inevitable that he would effectively just be a puppet, enacting whatever laws his father wished.  Once he had learned the basics with Fourdock, he’d be placed in charge of some other part of the land governed by the Earl if’Gofnar.

And then Thedeim… Lord Thedeim appeared and started inadvertently knocking plans askew.  He smiles at that thought as he waits at the entrance to his estate, his mind wandering as he awaits the arrival of his friends.  It’s the little changes that lead to the largest shifts, and though he’s not dedicated enough to become any sort of divine class, he still feels a warm comfort in the knowledge that if you prepare for it, change can be steered instead of resisted.  If resisted, it will eventually break through, but riding the change is like riding the tide, and things become much easier once you learn how to manage the ebb and flow.

He even toys with the idea of advancing his class in the divine direction, trying not to laugh at the idea of himself as a Paladin of Change.  It’s easy to imagine Freddie in shining armor, leading the charge against evil, but Rezlar just can’t imagine himself in that kind of position.  He expects he’ll have his hands more than full with directing Fourdock toward prosperity, even with the help of Lord Thedeim and the other powerful individuals of the town.

His battlefield is more likely to be in courts of nobility, wielding the bureaucracy with the same deftness he does his rapier.  It’s a much less glamorous battle than most, but still a necessary one.  He may, one day, even need to do battle with his father, and though he dreads facing a foe as powerful as he is, Rezlar still has a spark of confidence that victory could be possible.  Eventually.

Before that niggling doubt can worm further into him, he smiles as he spots Freddie and Rhonda, along with their spiders.  All four wave at him, and he resists the urge to wave back.  He’s Larrez right now, and even if he’s stationed at the gate with one of the veterans who knows who he is, he still needs to maintain the proper procedures.

That doesn’t mean he can’t smile widely at his friends as they near.  “Rhonda!  Freddie!  And Fiona and Lucas, of course!  I’m glad you all could make it!”

“I’m glad we could make it, too!” replies Rhonda, looking eager to explore.

“I’m surprised the mayor approved of something like this.  It seems like a security risk to me,” comments Freddie, though he looks very curious to get a good look around as well.

“Miller says having a fresh set of eyes can reveal problems even someone like him could have overlooked,” excuses Rezlar, hoping they’re not too suspicious.

The guardsman at the gate chuckles at that.  “If you kids find something he managed to overlook, I’ll eat my boots.”  His subtle laughter hitches for a moment as he glances around, before lowering his voice.  “Though if he did leave something for you to spot, could you pretend not to notice it?  He’s the sort to leave something like that just to challenge me to be true to my word.”

Rezlar and the others laugh at that promise to try to not make him eat his footwear, and he soon smiles and straightens.  “Guardsman Larrez!”

Rezlar stands at attention, and the veteran eyes his form before giving a nod of approval.

“You are relieved to guide this group about the manor at your discretion.  Enjoy the tour,” he finishes, winking at Freddie and Rhonda, before turning his attention back to keeping an eye out at the entrance.

Rezlar leads his friends out to the gardens first.  Even though they’ve been there before, he still likes them, and they’re a good place to decide where to go next.  “So… these are the gardens.  The groundskeeper does amazing work.  The hardest part of patrolling here is not getting distracted by all the interesting plants.”

“You’re telling me,” comments Rhonda, her hands drifting over the various plants as the group walks.  “Master Staiven never has much luck growing herbs himself, but the groundskeeper’s gotta be really high level to be able to grow all this.  Have they delved Thedeim to get any of the plants here?”

Rezlar pauses at that.  “I… don’t know, actually.  I’m not really familiar with herbalism to know how difficult these were to get.”

They wander around for a few more minutes, enjoying the sights, before Rezlar decides it’s probably time to move on.  “So, what do you two want to see next?”

“I could probably spend all day just in the garden,” admits Rhonda.

“How about the library?” asks Freddie.  “I bet the mayor has all sorts of history books.  The church mostly has records of church stuff, but it could be interesting to read about Fourdock itself, or the kingdom at large.”

Rezlar nods and leads the way, though the group takes their time to look at the paintings and other bits of art displayed along the walls.  “I think most of what the mayor has is boring political treatises, trade records, and accounting books.  Oh, there are some records of the Gofnar War and the treaty with the orcs, though.”

Freddie looks interested in that.  “I’ve heard diplomacy with the orcs is pretty difficult, thanks to how loose their government is.”

Rezlar snorts at the understatement as they reach the library.  “I’ve heard people argue they don’t really have a government at all.  It seems to work pretty well for them, though.”

Rhonda nods as she looks over a few maps on display in the library, the tip of her staff tracing the Gofnar River back to Lake Gofnar, and the Also Gofnar River that feeds it from the mountains.  “I can’t believe they called it the Also Gofnar River.  Or that the orcs actually decided to honor it as part of the border!”

Freddie chuckles as he looks over the map as well.  “The Wanderlands seem pretty lackadaisical, but the orcs have their honor.  They were kinda playing with the wording of the agreement when they started crossing the river there for raids.  I’ve read a couple accounts of Shield paladins protecting small settlements, and they said the spirit of the agreement was that the elves wouldn’t have to worry about orcish incursions.  At the time, they didn’t have much of an idea of where the feeding river went.  As they and the elves kept exploring, they found a lot more land than expected.  The elves called it the North Horlon river for a time, before they say the king, in annoyance, declared it to be the Also Gofnar River.”

Rezlar and Rhonda both snicker at the idea, doubly humorous for the simple fact that it seems a very plausible way for it to get the name.  Even Freddie smiles at the silliness before he continues.  “So the orcs honored the agreement and haven’t done any raiding since.  I’ve heard the Beastkin Principalities tried to establish the Gofnar Plains to give them the same protection, but the orcs only made that agreement with the elves, so the beastkin still get raided.”

Rezlar nods at that.  “That’s my understanding, too.  I hear they don’t get raided as often anymore, with the orcs finding it easier to trade the resources of their wanderlands for whatever they might want from the beastkin.  Still, they sometimes still raid them, either in desperation from a harsh winter, or just to keep them on their toes.”

“Do you know much about the Principalities?” asks Freddie, and Rezlar shakes his head.

“Not really.  I just know their government has a pretty chaotic reputation, with the best way to unite them being to try to actually attack.  A quick raid is one thing, but trying to annex territory sees them put aside their differences and repel armies with gusto.  The sheer variety of their people makes it almost impossible to defend against, and once a single avenue is opened, the rest can rush in and obliterate any hostile forces.”

Freddie nods at his analysis.  “That’s what the Shield histories indicate, too.  I’m pretty sure there’s more detailed histories of Shield followers protecting the settlements of the Principalities, just not in the archives here.”

They poke around the library for a little more, Rhonda and Freddie pulling out a book to glance into.  What books might be interesting are simply too long to dig into on this kind of tour though, and soon they head back out into the manor at large.

“Are you two hungry yet?”

“I can always eat,” answers Freddie with a smile, and Rhonda echoes him.

“Same!  Magic takes just as much energy as holding up a shield!”

Rezlar smiles at that, both glad and nervous about the upcoming part of the plan to reveal himself.  “There’s a smaller staff dining room just off the kitchen, so we don’t have to try to eat at the big table in the dining hall.”

The group follows as Freddie speaks up.  “It’d be kinda cool to eat at a fancy table like nobles,” he says with amusement, though Rezlar disagrees.

“I’ve had to stand guard in there before at a dinner.  Everything at a dinner like that is a political ploy, from the seating to the serving order… even the menu!  Serving some noble’s hated dish is a common way of trying to leverage something.”

Freddie’s amusement sours at that, and Rhonda sticks out her tongue at the thought.  “Eating fancy would be nice, but without the side of intrigue, thanks.”

Rezlar snorts in laughter at that.  “I think the mayor would agree.  Much better to have a meal with friends than something like that.”

“So what’s for lunch?” asks Freddie as they enter the kitchen, where a stout halfling is pulling something from the oven.

“Ah, perfect timing!  These lamb rolls are just finished.”

Even Fiona and Lucas look interested in the rolls, and Rezlar makes a mental note to make sure to bring plates for them as well.  “Those look great!  I’ll get them seated and come get them.”

The head chef nods, giving Rezlar a thumb’s up where the young noble’s friends can’t see.  “I’ll take mine in the garden.  You guys enjoy, there’s plenty!”

He makes his exit and they wave him farewell before Rezlar ushers them to the staff dining area.  To Rezlar, it feels a lot like the tavern area in the Adventurer’s Guild, just not as big, nor as crowded.  It just feels… friendly.  He can’t hide his nerves as he gets his friends seated and gets them some water, and he hopes they just take it as him trying to be hospitable, because that’s partially what it is.

He hurries back to the kitchen and tries to calm himself, running his mana in a fencing kata to help focus.  He also needs the water to wash off his disguise, and he’s glad for the practice at quickly swapping clothing that Miller put him through.  His water washes the disguise off quickly and he channels it down the sink, before he quickly changes into his most casual ‘normal’ clothes.  He still feels overdressed to meet his friends, but it’s too late now to change his mind.  He grabs a large tray and enough plates for everyone, including the spiders, and plenty of the lamb rolls, too, before he makes his way for the door.

“I hope you guys are hungry!  These rolls taste even better than they smell!”

He sees their eager looks for the food quickly change to confusion, but he does his best to act like nothing is out of the ordinary as he sets the tray on the table and sets out the plates.  He’s relieved that Lucas and Fiona, at least, don’t react at all to his change in attire and lack of disguise.  They probably don’t really understand the difference between Larrez and Rezlar.

Silence reigns as he sets out the plates, and takes a pair of rolls for himself before he sits down.  He tries to play it cool, but he’s starting to get nervous at their reactions so far.

“Larrez?” asks Rhonda, peering at him in confusion.  Freddie, however, seems to understand as he shakes his head.

“Rezlar,” he corrects her, before turning his look to the elf.  Rezlar swallows heavily before Freddie finally smiles.

“I thought I saw you meet with Torlon, but everyone said the only meeting he had was with the mayor that day!”

“The mayor?” echoes Rhonda, before it finally clicks.  Rezlar can see her mind racing as she clearly comes up with questions and tries to organize which to ask first.  Freddie beats her to it.

“Why us?” he asks, looking genuinely curious, which is better than accusatory.

“Well… at the time, I wanted to try to get more used to people, and to try to train myself some, so Miller suggested I join the Adventurer’s Guild.  Karn wasn’t too happy, but I think that was more the paperwork he’d have to do, rather than in accepting me.  And he really did want me to invite you two because he wanted you in the guild.”

“Huh,” comments Freddie before he takes a couple rolls himself, and sets one on Fiona’s plate, too.  Rhonda hurries to give Lucas one as well, and get one for herself, too, before she speaks up.

“So we’ve been adventuring with the lord mayor?  No wonder you’re always weird when it comes to money!”

Rezlar gives them a bashful nod at that.  “Yeah I… it always felt wrong to let you two pay for anything for me.”

Freddie shrugs and swallows before answering.  “That’s what friends do.  Maybe now we can split the bill for food at the guild without needing to add it all up separately.”

Rezlar smiles at them in relief.  He was confident they’d accept him, and he’s glad to see they’re even more understanding than he would have dared hoped.

The rest of the meal feels like they’re at the guild, just talking about everything and nothing at all, the conversation and companionship lasting longer than the food.  They probably could have kept hanging out together until dinner, if not for Miller entering the room with a fresh jug of water, and a tray with a letter on it.

“Please pardon me, young master.  I know you wished to not be interrupted, but you’ve received a missive that should probably be perused with haste.”

Rezlar fights down the annoyance at being interrupted, but if Miller himself is doing it, it’s not going to be for anything trivial.  He sighs, accepting that the kingdom doesn’t stop for the king’s leisure, so why should it for his?

“Thank you, Miller,” he says, taking the letter from the tray, only to freeze as he recognizes the seal.

“Is something wrong?” asks Freddie in the same tone he’d use to warn of danger while delving.

“Yes and no…” reluctantly answers Rezlar, starting to glare at the seal like he could somehow change it.  “It’s from my father, the Earl if’Gofnar.”