Chapter 320: A Visiting Lord
After weeks of travel, Owan Lothian had grown sick of the interior of his luxurious carriage. Even though it was spacious with seats upholstered in soft suede and the springs of the carriage were far better than those used on most carriages, nothing could turn the cramped interior of a wooden box into anything that felt ’comfortable’ once you spent more than a dozen days confined to its interior all day long.
The Blackwell household staff had done their best with his carriage after he arrived last night. The dark maroon curtains had been laundered and the carpets washed and scrubbed. Scented oils had been applied to the upholstery, masking the smell of unwashed bodies that clung to the interior after weeks of travel and someone who hadn’t spent weeks in the cramped interior might find it to be opulent.
Owain, however, was sick of it. If not for the fact that it would have diminished his image in the eyes of the locals, he would have ridden a horse himself just to feel the sea breeze of Blackwell harbor on his face and the warmth of the summer sun on his skin. Instead, once again, he was confined to his carriage as it navigated through the crowded streets of Blackwell City to the guildhall of the Fellowship of Wayfinders.
Staring out the window, Owain watched the bustle of the vibrant port city with a complicated expression. By rights, Lothian City should be wealthier and grander than any mere County city could possibly be. The reality, however, was a stark reminder that Lothian March was still very much on the ’frontier.’ The iron-bound chest sitting on the floor in the center of the carriage represented the potential to change all that, but for now, it was only potential that had yet to be realized.
The greatest object of wealth on display in Lothian city didn’t even belong to the mighty Lothian family, rather, it was the golden spires of the grand temple that the Lothians had built to gain the support of the Church which dominated the heart of the city with its golden roof and glittering stained glass windows.
But every time Owain had visited Blackwell City, he didn’t have to look far to realize that the commoners of Ashlynn’s hometown could live lives every bit as luxurious as his, perhaps even more so. And while only a few might enjoy such luxury, there were still many enjoying lives every bit as grand as the other occupants of his carriage.
"You’re staring like a country bumpkin," Owain said, glaring at his new steward, Sir Hugo. Seeing the man look so much like a fish out of water triggered a festering wound in his heart as he compared the bookish bastard to his murdered predecessor. Sir Kaefin had been a real man who knew to be bold, even when traveling to unfamiliar lands. By comparison, his replacement was far, far too lacking.
"Ignore the trappings of wealth and remember that you are one of my knights when we meet with these merchants. You don’t just represent yourself here, or me. You’re the son of Baron Hanrahan," he reminded sharply. "So act like it."
Hugo withdrew his hand from the carriage’s curtain as if burned, hunching his shoulders slightly as he turned away from the window. His hawk-like features that immediately gave away his parentage to anyone who knew his father only emphasized how ill at ease he looked in his fine clothing. The numbers and figures he’d spent all morning reviewing scattered in his mind under Owain’s stern gaze.
"I’m sorry, my lord," he said, unconsciously touching the leather-bound ledger in his lap. He’d asked Owain to review his work before the meeting but the handsome young lord had only laughed, saying that if Hugo couldn’t even manage to handle the questions of a single merchant guildmaster then he had no business in Owain’s retinue. Now, the pressure he felt under Owain’s gaze grew even greater as it seemed that nothing he did would meet his new lord’s demanding standards.