The air was cold and stale, sunk deep with the perpetual stink of rats and mice, and all other filth wanted to be disposed of.
Silence resumed, [s]full of dead rats and mice,[/s] and a chilly night wind slithering across the bay.
Two armed with kitchen knives servants stood not far away…
…a merchant ship that carried aboard the man who had started the bloodiest war in the last two centuries…
A war that tore international trade into tatters, Meriadossa alienating the East and West.
A tired mortal, not a legend, tall and thin; a stick of a man.
…whom she did not see for ten years.
That was only half-true as he needed a translator to understand what the man was telling him, but di Ariont took a certain pride from not learning the barbarian tongue, with its slurred consonants and apostrophes in writing.
A little boy of that age was hugged into her furs,
Looking up, the Countess met with tired, tired eyes those of her daughter.
Two armed with kitchen knives servants stood not far away,
The wearer cursed and dabbed at it impatiently, them pulled away immediately
Bloody Empire, the Meriadossam envou to the Empire thought
The negotiations, in spite of he had written to the King, were not moving smoothly.
There were dead animals in the bay.
and all other filth wanted to be disposed of.
A little boy of that age was hugged into her furs, and a not much older girl held his hand, gazing out into the waters.
“I’m cold,” wailed the Viscount
but it was no longer amusing to try to catch it.
she turned the other way and started coughing mercilessly, gasping and choking on the putrid air while all the time struggling for breath. Tiny droplets of blood decorated her fingers when she finally did. Looking up, the Countess met with tired, tired eyes those of her daughter.
“I’m cold, Lana!”
Silence resumed, a chilly night wind slithering across the bay.
Two armed with kitchen knives servants stood not far away
Guards should have come instead of them, the two boys thought, but her ladyship could not pay for guards, and so it had to be them who were to protect the family from ruffians and any other ne’er-do-wells. A stupid thing for her ladyship and children to be out.
Another hour passed before the looked-for ship appeared in view
a merchant ship that carried aboard the man who started the bloodiest war in the last two centuries, accused and imprisoned for taking part in the plot that killed Meriadossa’s two heirs, their wives, and a handful of prominent nobles. A war that tore international trade into tatters, Meriadossa alienating the East and West.
A tired mortal, not a legend; tall and thin, a stick of a man. He disembarked calmly, as calmly as if he were doing so from any other voyage. He glanced at his namesake son and daughter, then at his wife.
exhausted and weak
Cont Imilian Valkarad was home – war had come to an end.
The wearer cursed and dabbed at it impatiently, then pulled away immediately, disgusted at the touch of wet fur on his fingers. Bloody Empire, the Meriadossan envoy to the Empire thought distractedly, bloody cold outside and inside, and everywhere, and bloody Valkarad –
That was only half-true as he needed a translator to understand what the man was telling him, but di Ariont took a certain pride from not learning the barbarian tongue, with its slurred consonants and apostrophes in writing.
He gestured at the translator and secretary in one, a young man of maybe twenty
“Read the Valkarad file,” he ordered the translator when the spy had left and only a crackle of flames was to be heard in the small, stuffy chamber, in size fit more for the servants’ quarters than an aristocrat in di Ariont’s opinion.
Not even a suite, much to his irritation, since his lodging consisted only of a minute study and a sleeping chamber, shared with the translator and a manservant.
The translator took a meager three steps from one end of the chamber to the other, and found himself next to a laden with papers desk.
Efficient, that one. He wondered for what sins such a young man like him ended up so far from civilization. Looked underneath the wrong skirts?
Boring and stiff like old King Cadeirn himself, declining a cup of wine after barely his second.
“Went stark mad, yes,” ended di Ariont, who knew every word of the report by heart.
“That he seems fine but then suddenly becomes aggressive, yes, yes.”
He had almost suffered an attack of apoplexy when he learned that Valkarad was to be released – how was he, a Meriadossan envoy, to behave around the man? Risk the wrath of Cadeirn or the Emperor Feliksian? And then the peace negotiations, the delicate peace negotiations with Valkarad lurking about!
The negotiations, in spite of he had written to the King, were not moving smoothly.
A decade’s worth of his monarch’s crusade to avenge his sons was not an easy matter to close, and the Emperor was cunning if not civilized, hinting at marriage between one his daughter and Caderin’s remaining heirs. Overseas it was generally feared that Meriadossa would cave in to those demands, wanting to appease the Easter Lands which demanded that trade treaties with the Empire were to be renewed, threatening with a war of their own, one that Meriadossa could not afford.
He shot a calculating, bleary-eyed look to the desk
an exact copy of the leather-bound book underneath a tile in the girl’s room.
Rinnie who is my governess who has two children even though she is not married says I am to be married! I rather think she would like to have me as a daughter rather than her daughter because I am the daughter the Emperor (may he live forever and ever). I am to be married to a prince! I am to be a queen someday and then even Nikolas who is my brother will have to bow before me because I will be a queen and he will be only the Emperor’s (may he live forever and ever) heir. And he will have to be very nice to me.
“Idiot girl,” di Ariont muttered to himself, and took another healthy swig of wine, then another, until only a few droplets were left. “More.”