Brunch of Lies

New clothes. New mind. Martaled strolled toward the palace steps. The slabs of white marble looked endless. And slippery. Good thing his boots had grooved soles. Jek really had found a wonderful tailor, the garments fit surprisingly well. Or as well as they could in the Hederan male fashion. The pants were baggy until they were tucked into knee high boots. The sleeves were just as voluminous before ending at tight cuffs, yet the shirt’s torso was close fitting. Over his waist Martaled had a wide belt like sash of dark red silk. The oversized ribbon had no purpose other than to hold an ornate knife on his back, and simply be silk.

Inside the tailor’s Martaled had thought he resembled that of a wind catcher, if a light blue and cream wind catcher, with all the puffs of cloth. But as soon as he walked outside was when he understood. The bagginess was incredibly cool. How he could have used these in Grel that one spring! Or at any time of the year in Grel. A Hederan summer almost reached that wretched peninsula's humidity. He only sweated in the close torso, and on the ride here he had noticed that most men in Hederan wore open shirts, with belts underneath. It’s too hot in the south, after this we’re going north if I have to drag Jek by the ear. Martaled thought.

But that was no matter. Now that he dressed like Lord Caz, Martaled was Lord Caz. It wouldn’t have mattered if these people ran around with wool sacks over their heads. Martaled would be in character. The palace doors opened before him, huge things that were thirty percent gold hinges. Martaled walked in to be greeted by startled servants, greeted was a nice term, they looked like a pack of roaches suddenly exposed by an upturned log. The queen’s brunch had started hours ago. No one was hours late to the queen’s brunch. Martaled was also alone, which was only a touch less odd than being late. All lords and ladies were followed by an entourage of servants or lesser nobles. But he stood alone, in front of guards who had opened the doors and a panting footman who looked like he’d run as fast as he could to announce Lord Caz.

Martaled stared at him for a moment and cocked his eyebrow. A simple gesture, but it sent man running, his steps echoing loudly through the corridor. The guards simply looked confused, while trying hard not to look at him. Being late to see the queen? They probably expected him to be hanged by the end of the day. Martaled wasn’t worried, or at least he didn’t show it as he slowly entered, staring up at the murals on the tall ceiling of the entrance hall.

The one that took his interest was of a storm over the great wall that lined Hederan. Entire towers of water stood frozen in the picture, and a small ship was in the middle of being thrown into the sky. Could water even reach those heights? It seemed as if the painter had had a small flask with him while painting. A small yellow fish flopped in the corner of the mural, the little fish would have been passed off as normal if not for the small round hat. It appeared to be dancing as well. Martaled was probably the first person to notice that fish in a few centuries, give or take. The thing was tiny, almost a pinprick in the storms vastness. Martald had very good eyes though. He could spot running deer from around a mile off, and could see the way the paint had started to crack on his dancing friend. Frantic clopping drew his attention to, what looked to be, the head servant. A skinny man who was doing a half good job of hiding his annoyance toward Martaled.

“Lord Caz, I presume.” the man said a properly practiced tone.

“Indeed.” Martaled replied.

The servant swept his hand forward, and started down the hall. Apparently Martaled needed to follow. The entry hall morphed into walkways that preferred crown molding over all else. Here and there was a painting or a niche in the wall with a vase that cost more than the entire ship he’d arrived on. But wood work covered every corner and vault. So that’s where all the trees went. Martaled chuckled, causing the skinny servant to glance back and glare at him.

After 3 flights of vine carved stairs, 1 marble catwalk over a koi pond, and more crown molded corners than Martaled cared to count the skinny head servant led him to a pair of tall doors, and who would have guessed? The door frame was all vines and lion heads at the corners. The servant gestured for him to stay put, rapped on the doors quietly on a knocker shaped as a rose and slipped inside. Now that Martaled had been abandoned he walked to the side to the hallway and leaned on a thick windowsill of carved, flourishing oak leaves. He stared intently over the city, after all he was a simple country Lord, Martaled needed to practice gawking at everything. The city stretched out before being sliced off cleanly at the wall. So many towers, and gardens, grand squares packed with so many people you would have never known paving stones lay beneath. The harbor was a flurry of sails and specked with little row boats. Apparently there were large beaches on the other side of the island and people went swimming there. He had never thought swimming in the ocean pleasant, but Martaled was happy to try. What do you wear? He wondered.

To sum up, Hederan was a gem, yet it was not any more fabulous than any other rich city Martaled had seen in his travels. It’s certainly better than Grel. Martaled admitted. A moment later the doors opened.

* * *

Queen Dealay sat in a plush chair on the large open roofed balcony were the brunch was taking place. The start of summer had caused the desire for large umbrellas over each table. Women in silk dresses with wide sleeves and men in shirts with extra puff sipped wine and murmured politely. A group of harps blanketed the scene with serenity. But Dealay was unable to fully enjoy the gathering when a bloodthirsty hag of a woman poked and prodded at her. But she was being polite.

“My queen,” said High Lady Tailned, a woman of practical a dress of grey silk, to match her practical swirled bun of grey hair.

“If I may say so, I believe it is a better move to simply send the man away. This Caz should not be allowed leeway in showing disrespect to the queen.” Tailned’s little party of half wits nodded vigorously, wholeheartedly agreeing with the High Lady. They also wore grey silk, but had youthful faces and curled tassels of hair. One of them, with red curls that had been gifted from a bottle, even went as far to say,

“The country lout should be sent off with his tail between his legs.” The other women waited for Tailned’s nod before agreeing.

“I think it would be much more entertaining to let him in.” Dealay said. Tailned appeared surprised, a look that was quickly copied by the other women.

“Of course, my queen. But he should still be punished, my queen cannot afford to appear weak.”

“Don’t worry so, this will be fun. Guards! He is to be let in.” Dealay ordered with a whisk of her hand. At least the guards didn’t question her. The doors opened and a slight silence fell over the party. In the hall a tall, dark man leaned on one of the windowsills. He wore fine silks and had a beautiful ivory knife on his back. The sun shined on his face, a face that had a beautifully dreamy look in it with it’s soft nose and strong jaw. He continued leaning, it almost looked as if he were basking in the sunlight. Dealay heard one than one of Tailned’s followers sigh. The man finally noticed the open doors, and that all the people trough it were staring at him. Turning his head the man blinked in surprise, but it almost seemed as if his long lashes had been fluttering. Straightening you could see how tall he really was, and he had very broad shoulders. His clothing was just like that of the other Lords but the torso on his seemed tighter.

I was right, this will be fun. Dealay smiled. He walked in smoothly, and smiled as well. If any woman had doubted his good looks, they were corrected by that white, full lipped smile. His hair was a dark chestnut, and his skin slightly tan. Yet it was still a fairly light color surrounded by Hederan natives. He set his path toward her, but weaved through the crowed in such a way that allowed him to shoot a casual smile at any woman he could. Those with husbands regarding him with the same look of longing as any other fluttering serving girl would. The ones without partners looking even more desperate. Once the pretty boy reached her conversation kindled up again, but this time the words “Mysterious” and “handsome” bubbled up. His introduction was soon delayed as he bowed to Tailned first. Dealay felt her eyes widen in shock.

“My dear Lady,” He said, leaning into a bow and kissing her hand lightly. His voice was a deep chime. The powder puff who had called him a “country lout” looked as if she would faint. Even Tailned’s breath caught as he straightened and looked deeply into her eyes. Dealay understood why, when he turned to her he gave a low bow and said,

“I am Lord Caz, and I desperately ask my beautiful queen for her forgiveness at my undesirable timing.” When he rose Lord Caz acknowledged her with eyes as endless as the sea, and it appeared impossible to tell if they were blue or green. Oh yes, this will be very fun.

“I must say, Lord Caz, that such disrespect is not tolerated. Or at least not all too often.”

He smiled, and despite herself Dealay found herself staring. This man was good. For 5 years Dealay had dealt with all sorts of men seeking her hand, from those her elder by 3 generations to young pretties like this Caz. She had respectfully sent away the grandfathers, tried her best at not offending the men, and had led the bright eyed boys by the nose until she got bored of it. She had always giggled at the lovely little pasties as they puffed out their chests and stared romantically. The staring was what sent her into a riot. How could you make a connection while going cross eyed? Dealay smiled just thinking about the boy who had run into a pole while attempting to “look into her heart”.

But this Caz was too smooth for his own good. And it seemed someone had finally started thinking. Instead of sending someone who was wholeheartedly devoted to her, they sent a boy to make her jealous. By the Profit, Caz was doing his job well. But the better he was, the more fun she could have, playing his emotions as much as he would try at hers.

After that smile he bowed again and walked away without dismissal. For the oddest reason he shot another glance, a glance for none other than Tailned. The greying High Lady blushed. Dealay fixed the image of the gruff and practical widow mooning like a village girl, it would be very useful in their next argument. An argument would have started hours ago if there hadn’t been spectators.

“Do you still think he needs punishment, Lady Tailned?” The woman was still watching the graceful dance that was Lord Caz. Dealay cleared her throat. “Lady Tailned.” The High Lady snapped forward,

“What was that my queen?” Dealay repeated the question, “Oh, well, he is from the coast. He should be allowed breathing room, after all, my queen does not want to appear to skittish or prejudice to alien customs.” The young ladies of Tailned’s following still followed Caz with their eyes. A powder puff and a flirt. How perfect, they can be swept off by the wind together. Those young women where the same age as Dealay, and by far her worst fear was having to deal with a small army of Tailned copies in her old age. Oh Profit, see to goodwill. She prayed sarcastically. Hopefully the Profit wouldn’t mind.

“How fluid of you Lady Tailned.” Dealay responded. The High Lady chose to ignore Dealay’s comment as she asked for leave. Dealay happily gave it and felt a wash of relief as the last of the scheming woman’s party left her space. Dealay sat alone at a table close to the railing, she only had turn her chair to enjoy the terrace’s view. It was nice to have a table apart from those who thought her a child, and would take any opportunity to hint at it. But isolation was a double edged sword, Dealay was also forced to be apart from people she liked. Such as Lord Sawol, a wily old man who had been ally and good friend to Dealay’s late father, Sawol was almost always in the company of his three charming granddaughters. None of which were over the age of 12. Her older cousin Jauel, and his new wife, a classmate of Dealay’s, Fallie were a quick witted pair and always good for a laugh. And Dealay could always thrust her cousin for honest opinions. Jauel was next in line for the thrown, but the pressure of ruling never seemed to affect him. He was good humored, a trait that led him to Fallie, but saw in numbers. If one number worked better than the other, the choice was simple. He would haul her out of the latest mess with an equation, and walk away joking about fish prices. “Soon they’ll be charging by the scale.” Was what he had said last week.

Then there was High Lord Rased, his table, coincidentally, had the best of views. This high in the palace you could see over the wall and out into the green sea. High Lord Rased, a man in his late forties who had done about ninety percent of the kingdom saving when Dealay’s parents passed. From simply looking the man was rigid, with a square jaw, bold nose, dark hair flecked with grey and a short beard to match. The man wore dark blue silk despite the heat, and the fact that he didn’t sweat a drop made him even more fierce. But he seemed to have a soft spot for those thrown into impossible situations. High Lord Rased had been the stone wall that kept Tailned and her late husband from snatching up Hederan. He had also stopped three wars in his lifetime, fought at the Waslan border, and ran the most successful house in the entire country. The High Lord was currently staring at new Lord Caz. But not nearly as intently as Rased’s daughter Haelyae. That little tid bit seemed to be causing the greying man’s frown.

Little Caz was strutting his best impersonation of a peacock. Over to the bar, to the balcony rail to stare dreamily over the city, left to Lady Galie, right to Lady Yailove complete impervious to Lord Yailvoe’s glare and back to the bar again. He always managed to look at High Lady Tailned, no doubt to be reassured . The hag had to the one who hired him. A country Lord from a house no one heard of couldn’t afford such finery as he was wearing now, or have the courage to even glance to a woman as powerful as Tailned. He should be trembling in those gold stitched boots, but instead he gave cool smiles to those who could have him killed if it was desired. As Martaled wandered around the terrace and tried to exert an air of suaveness while also trying his best to not trip over all the people rushing to question him. Although, nobles didn’t rush, simply desired something so much they held council with their feet and explained that moving at more than a snail crawl was for the better, though they were very graceful snails.

Dealay got up from her chair and stretched--- or as much a queen could stretch surrounded by her peers. Dealay then made her way toward her cousin, with the new flirt Jauel would have great material.

* * *

Martaled was making a killing. Every woman here blinked twice at the sight of him. Weather in amazement or disgust they were still looking. He had a toe in the door, that was all he needed. At the moment he was conversing with the readily aged Lady Chevya. Her hair was completely white, but her eyes read him with an amused sharpness. I suppose everything’s funny once seventy is a fond memory.

“So you seek to expand your holdings, young Caz?” She asked in a dry voice, “Yes my dear Lady. You see, my family’s current land is a small spot near the border of Salgest. My brother, Ordav Caz, sent me to make alliances----”

“And how do you plan to forge those alliances if you have such small lands and a great lack of diplomacy?” The old woman cut in.

“Well,” Martaled started.

“No wells, or buts, or petty family tales, young Caz. Just tell me what you plan and what is available to you to see it through. You are a lump of clay ready to be molded young Caz. But before I spend time to sculpt I must see if you will bend with my touch, or crack under the pressure.” She demonstrated by holding open her hand then snapping it shut into a fist. This woman made it easy to fake frustration, Martaled had been jumping through verbal hoops for almost half an hour. The most difficult of which being not what he wanted to order for a drink, but what was the right drink. What sat before him was untouched. Martaled was afraid it would turn his tongue purple.

“I do not have diplomatic ties, or a perfect knowledge in economics,” She tried to cut in again but Martaled simple ran on, “I have information. Very juicy information.” Lady Chevya scoffed.

“What? Is that all? You have a rumor of a supposed High Lord spending his nights away from home? It would seem most of the Profit Giver’s work went to those eyes, and not what is behind them.”

Martaled stood up from the table, it was time to make sure this conversation didn’t go to the unseen. He smiled and said

“I know of the Winter Moon of the 3rd holding. Good day, my dear Lady. I plan to help my house, not matter the cost. I will learn many things, considering I have so much room for them.” The old woman’s sharp eyes looked as if they would fall out of her head. That thirty year old secret had been easy to dig up. Lady Chevya had a reputation, she always over reacted. Life was a stage to her, or at least Jek’s informants said so, and for each person she gave a role. For Martaled she was a woman of great knowledge, even if that knowledge was simple gossip. And everything was worthy of gossip to her. Lord Caz would soon be a pretty face and a man who knew secrets. Everyone would know by the end of the day if Chevya’s tongue flapped half as fast as usual. In the world of aristocrats you were your reputation, what it said determined who you stood above. But more importantly, who you were below. Martaled walked off in the direction of the marble ledge. Wandering about he smiled at High Lady Tailned again, she refused to look at him.

Martaled chuckled, Tailned couldn’t have been more perfect. She was ambitious, widowed, and rich. Martaled simply had to show his worth, and Lord Caz would become Tailned’s lovely little toy. With so many young women under her care, Tailned could easily hide what Martaled would become. If she was even ashamed of it, that is. Some were, some weren’t. Martaled would just laugh and smile like he always did. Tailned, like all the women he and Jek specialized in, was lonely and power hungry. Lonely enough to want a handsome young man by their side, and too busy moving up in the world to question if her brainless little charm was up to something. Old women are so busy backstabbing each other, they never notice the pet. Martaled thought to himself.

Queen Dealay was up and about now. He would have to watch out, she had seemed enticed by him. Being noticed by nobles was bad enough, royalty was even worse. Yes, any person at this brunch could have him killed, but Lords and Ladies would have a much more humane way of doing it. Something slipped in his drink, a dagger he never saw coming. Much better to die at a party than rotting in a cell knowing the rope awaited. Nobles got rid of problems, royals made examples. If every choice was death he would choose assassination over execution. Thus he would seek out Lady Tailned and avoid the queen at all costs.

Martaled did admit that the queen seemed glorious, if only as a person. She was beautiful, and primed to a tee. Straight black hair tightly braided on one side and flowing on the other, powders that made her eyes sparkle, darkly tanned skin, and a purple, shimmering dress without a back. She also looked at people with brown eyes that seemed to know a joke that no one else did. Queen Dealay also seemed to be holding back gales of laughter whenever her gaze found Martaled. The only person who dampened her mood was High Lady Tailned. There was very bad blood between the Queen and Tailned, Martaled knew all about the war that almost broke out 12 years ago. Tailned had wanted the throne and got her husband killed trying to achieve it. He could use that if he was careful. If he could seek out dirt on the queen from one her allies, not the woman herself, that was too risky. That would be a perfect gateway to Tailned.

Lord Jaeul Trasde, the queen’s cousin, was only a few feet away and busy staring into the eyes of, if Martaled’s information was correct, his new wife Fallie. Jaeul seemed to be a bit of a short man, but he had dark hair and skin like that of his cousin. The Lady was even tanner, but had brown hair instead of black. Martaled strode over and asked for a seat at the couple’s empty table.

“Absolutely, Lord Caz, is it?” Martaled gave a small bow of thanks and pulled up a cushioned chair.

“I am as you name me, Lord Trasde.” Martaled started, “I seem to be making a slight fool of myself showing here late, not a good first impression it would seem.” One hand on a glass of chilled wine, the other on his wife’s hand, Jaeul said,

“I wouldn’t worry, fools make surprising money, seeing as how it can fall out of their ears.” Martaled chuckled, Lady Fallie Trasde watch him like a curious little owl.

“I am happy to see you don’t find it rude, me simply dropping in.” Martaled continued. “I was wonderfully relieved at your cousin’s forgiveness.”

“As you should be Lord Caz. Tell me, what circumstances led to you being late to see the queen? A man planning to move up in the world can’t do so six feet deep.” Mataled laughed again, this man was good company. The truth was that Martaled had been late on purpose, he would have a more notable entrance that way. His story however,

“The whole thing is a tad long, so I’ll keep to the important things.” Lord Trasde nodded.

“I arrived early this morning, only to find my family’s small city home in utter ruin. It was only half shocking though, my family hasn’t set foot on a island in over four generations. I spent half the morning searching this city for a suitable inn, even on the coast we don’t bunk with rats, no matter what the rumors say. It soon was apparent to me how large your Hederan is. That wall is quite deceiving. And wondering about like a half witted lamb isn’t the best strategy. But frustration showed gold to me a much faster alternative.

“We finally found an inn, but while transferring all my things to the inn my dear manservant Jek was robbed. The stolen goods just so happened to be my clothing. I thought being a bit late to the brunch would better than arriving in worn travel clothes, so I searched for a taylor. That search stole the other half the morning, and three more crowns worth of directions. Arriving at the taylor I was then robbed of both gold and sacred dignity. The taylor seemed to speak in a different tongue! What started as a simple request for what clothes were at hand became five personal fittings, for me and my manservant. Silk thread is stronger than any chain in that shop. And I was accidentally stuck with a needle every time I mentioned leaving. Though, on the bright side, not all men can say their manservant owns a silk pair of undergarments.”

The couple looked at him wide eyed, then burst into laughter. Lady Fallie started banging her fist on the table. The story had started as just getting lost, and Jek being his personal advisor. But he had zinged it up, and both seemed to greatly appreciate it.

“That’s quite an eventful morning Lord Caz.” said Lord Trasde, his wife said,

“I think I’ve heard of that taylor my Lord, on the corner of Swindler and Park.” That set off another riot, the young lady looked at her husband triumphantly as he laughed.

“For a moment I thought someone had released a flock of seagulls onto the terrace.” a voice chimed behind Martaled. Then the queen walked around and plopped into the seat next him. Martaled suppressed a yelp as he scrambled up and made a quick bow. “My queen,” he said, “I will leave you to your company. Again I thank you for your kindness earlier today.”

Queen Dealay cocked an eyebrow, “You have no need for that lord Caz, please sit. I wish to know how you turned my cousin into dolphin.” Lord Tresde laughed, looking happily upon the queen. What’s a dolphin? Martaled wondered as he timidly sat back down.