336 Lager
Len's voyage back to the isolated manor was much different than the trip to the palace for a multitude of reasons. Firstly, and perhaps most importantly, the sickening dread was gone. No more was he facing the gallows, instead facing a future that was markedly less bleak. It was a strange feeling, really, now that he wasn't worried about execution or years of imprisonment Len was starting to feel a bit lost. This wasn't a new development for himself but a return to form, so he was going to have to do a bit of soul searching and figure something out.
He also had company this time around - one of his father's guard working in the capacity as a manservant to help him move his stuff. There wasn't much of a conversation beyond the initial greeting and explanation as to why neither his parents or siblings would be joining him owing to Len's reserved nature and apparent hangover of the guard. Len couldn't make out much from the slurred mutterings, but it seemed like his father needed to rendezvous with the Emperor while the rest needed to attend some sort of social gathering related to the newly wed Arrewiz and Losiram. Considering the strange behavior his brother exhibited as they sailed in Len could only assume this had been anticipated to some degree, and frankly he was thankful he didn't have to attend.
Still, Len was a bit miffed that his triumphant reunion had been delayed, so as he stared blankly out the windows of the carriage (those windows being the final difference of note) he couldn't help but frown. The capitol, for all its bluster, wasn't really all that. There was certainly a degree of visual appeal in the form of neatly dressed passerby, elaborate architecture and a cohesive color pallette, however it felt a bit hollow for his liking. The streets, while finely kept, lacked the hustle and bustle he expected of an economic hub. In that respect the people were too neat, they were all bureaucrats, nobles, runners, or other such instruments of imperial control, not merchants, laborers and craftsmen.
From that perspective, all of this was little more than a hollow facade of what a city should be. Of course that didn't mean the city was without purpose. Len recognized that, despite his idea of what a city entailed, the capitol was a different beast. This was not a concentration of production or commerce but the seat of power from which the Emperor's control spread, ensuring proper tribute was offered and sufficient 'protection' was offered in turn. It was a vampire, a blood-sucking fiend designed to suppress those it preyed upon with their own power. Evil, perhaps, but a necessary one. After all, not every 'vampire' was as generous as this one . . .
"We're here." Len had been so absorbed in his disappointment that he hadn't noticed them passing through the grotto, the window he had been mindlessly staring out of displaying more natural looking greenery than the pruned shrubs and hedges of the city. "Shall we get a move on?"
"I'd like to say farewell to the staff. They treated me fairly well while I was here." He felt they were owed at least that much.
"Then let me get your stuff loaded, and you can say your goodbyes while I nod off."
- - - - -
It went without saying that Len would carry his lance out to the carriage. He hadn't brought much luggage to begin with, so a single trip was all the pair needed. As a matter of fact he felt confident in his ability to carry the rest of what he brought with him alongside the weapon, however he wasn't about to tell off help if it was being offered.
"All done?" The guard was laying down on the couch-bench in the carriage when Len finally returned, a few jam-filled pastries wrapped in a napkin poking out of his pocket.
"Yeah." There was a suspicious creak as Len gently leaned his lance against the interior of the carriages' cabin, though the guard did not appear to be particularly perturbed. Unlike just about everyone else at this manor, he had known Len (or rather of Len) for a long time. It would be weirder if he reacted to the Lance. "Want a pastry?"
"Bad for my hangover."
"Really?"
"You'll understand when you drink."
"I've tried, and I don't think I like the taste of alcohol."
"More for the rest of us." He knocked the wall of the carriage twice once Len closed the door. In moments there was movement, Len waving farewell to anybody who cared as they made their way towards the opening in the grotto.
"Where are we headed?"
"The palace."
"Huh?"
"Your father is the Grand Marshall of the Bulsarzian Empire. He has a residence on the grounds of the Imperial Palace." The guard elaborated as if this should be common knowledge. To be fair, Len really should have known that. "Did you think he'd maintain a manor in the city?"
"I guess he wouldn't be fond of such a thing." Having a private residence, particularly a large one like a manor, invited the expectation of parties and social gatherings. Those weren't possible for property in the Emperor's direct control. "What about my mother?"
"She can borrow her family's properties. They've got more than enough around here."
"Really?"
"Her sister married the Emperor. Did you think she was on the same level as Losiram?" Len was so stunned by the connection that he failed to catch the subtle jab at his sister in law. It felt pretty obvious now that he thought about it . . . but he had never met any of her kin. He'd never been told anything about them either, at least not directly.
"I didn't know-" Len was interrupted by the sudden stopping of the carriage and some brief commotion outside, a few seconds after which there was a sharp knock on the door.
Hangover or not, the guard had his sword at the ready in an instant, keeping the tip pointed at any potential assailant as he opened the door. Len, fully aware his weapon was less than useless in such an enclosed environment, pushed himself towards the opposite side of the carriage. His pastries, still wrapped up in a napkin, were smushed as he did so.
"Good evening!" Instead of a blade, Len and the guard were instead greeted with a smile and wave. "Congratulations on your acquittal!"
"Brahn?" The eccentric bureaucrat made something of an impression on Len, so he remembered his name in spite of their brief meeting. "What are you doing here?"
"I was here to deliver a message on behalf of your father, actually." Brahn took a moment to tidy his appearance, adopting a formal tone. "There is someone who wishes to make your acquaintance, but they have decided to meet off palace grounds to maintain a degree of privacy."
"Who would be interested in me?" The guard lowered his sword, recognizing there not to be a threat after all.
"That, I am afraid, is something you must learn for yourself."
- - - - -
It was only natural for Rishtahn to view beer as disgraceful, something unfit for someone of his station to take part in.
Generally speaking, beer was not imbibed by the upper castes of nobility. There were always exceptions to this sort of rule, the occasional intermingling with the soldiery and attendance at various peasant harvest festivals might warrant the drinking of 'low' alcohol, however very few nobles took it up as their beverage of choice. It was seen as a fundamentally unrefined and cheap beverage, a view founded upon the lack money and time needed as investment to brew it. Even the base material - usually a common grain - was viewed as lesser than the alternatives used for the manufacturing of other 'high' alcohols. Combining the generally lacking flavor profiles with the perception such beverages would make you fatter didn't help either.
"How's the taste?"
"Better than the last batch, my lord." And yet the lager in his hand was among his most favorite drinks. "I think you've managed to remove most of the tang, and it has become slightly smoother on the way down."
"Perfect." Prince Erzyl sat down across from Rishtahn, tankard in hand. He took a long swig from it, smacking his lips before releasing a heavy sigh. "I'll have to bring my equipment with me. Think I'll be able to find a building for it?"
"There are many buildings for rent throughout the Veins. I'm certain you will find one to your liking."
"Anything on the surface?"
"I wouldn't know. I was not on the lookout for real estate during my time there, especially not on the surface." Rishtahn knew well enough that there were all sorts of manors and plazas available for the lords visiting the Great Csillacra, all made available by the Sanctum to rent for parties, diplomatic conferences, or even just to live in for a while. They were a well known source of revenue for the organization, however Rishtahn had already made too many mistakes as of late. Admitting he did not know would be received far better than making a faulty assumption. "Did you have plans to sell it?"
"No, at least not any time soon." Another drag. "Maybe once I perfect the recipe I'll consider it, when it's something worthy of my name. Until then, I'll need you to be my taste tester."
"A duty eagerly fulfilled." Rishtahn slammed the rest of his alcohol down, savoring the taste known as trust. The aftertaste was a bit bitter though, the guilt of having forced his lord to accept punishment still fresh in his mind. The reason for his lord's apparent eagerness to do so were beyond his comprehension, but he did not have the courage to broach the subject. After all, the third prince was smart, wise beyond his years, and possessed an ability to read a situation far better than Rishtahn could ever hope to. If he had a reason for doing so, it was almost certainly the correct one. So Rishtahn sat there, staring out the window towards a city draped in amber evening light, wondering what it was he missed.
"Vurnie?"
"Yes, m'lord?" A petite woman, one of the herd, stepped out from the corner into the light. She was Erzyl's maidservant and bodyguard, the only person he trusted more than Rishtahn. It would be a lie to say he wasn't jealous of this fact, however Rishtahn was firmly aware of the positions each held. The Herd were sworn to the bloodline of the Empire, dynastic assets with ties beyond honor and duty, while he was merely the son of the prime minister. True, he might be next in line for the role, but the prime minister served at the pleasure of the Emperor. With but a word he could be removed from his position and even disappeared. No such fate could befall Vurnie without dire consequences for the Imperial line.
"I would like to have a private chat with my friend here." Despite this difference in trust, there was still one area he could claim victory over that woman. Rishtahn was Prince Erzyl's 'friend'. "See to it we retain this privacy."
"As you wish." The clacking of heels on wood preceded the closing of the door.
"I imagine there is something you want to ask me?" Prince Erzyl wasted no time getting to the point.
". . . why did you do it?" Rishtahn was not so concise, and needed a second to gather his words. "Letting that brat off, I mean. I'm certain I could have gotten him punished."
"My reasons were many and varied, though I have to say that certainty of yours was cause for concern." Erzyl sat forward, drawing focus to his face. "I find you to be a remarkably competent individual, one who rarely overlooks the obvious and can frequently see the hidden, however you are not without fault. In this particular case, the fault I feel expressed itself quite viciously is your inability to adequately read the capabilities and strengths of opponents not directly in view, which itself may be an expression of your training as a future Prime Minister."
"How do you mean?" This was the first Rishtahn had heard of such a flaw, but he did not for a second doubt the assessment.
"Hmm, well, let us start from the source. As a minister, be it the head of the cabinet or a specific department, your duty is to make decisions based upon information presented to you by your subordinates and respond with an effective course of action in pursuit of the goals of your superior. You may assume certain information to be missing, inaccurate, or irrelevant to the decision being made based upon your own knowledge, experience, and gut, but ultimately your contest is against an inanimate problem rather than a sentient adversary. I should say that there is nothing wrong with this approach, personally I believe it to be the best method of dealing with such problems, however repeatedly resolving issues in this way - with remarkable success might I add - has trained you to disregard how your opponent might attempt to achieve their own goals."
"So . . . you're saying that I approached this problem like solving a problem rather than engaging in a duel?" While Rishtahn thought he understood what Erzyl was getting at, clarification couldn't hurt.
"An apt analogy, if a bit lacking."
"I'm sorry, my lord, but I don't agree. Even if my initial decision to prosecute him was made in rage, I don't think I underestimated his capabilities. The Grand Marshall might be his adopted father, however there isn't much he can do to alter the outcome of a case, especially not with his relatively lacking social network. I cannot see anything he could have done to escape the claims presented."
"Mm, then perhaps it would be best you think of it like a skirmish between armies than a duel between men."
"Pardon?"
"It is as you say, Len alone would not be able to do anything to prevent himself from being prosecuted."
"Then-"
"But he was not your only opponent." Erzyl powered through the attempted interjection, not so much as batting an eye. "While I agree with your assessment that his father was not much of a threat in this scenario - it would have taken a friend of his in the jury for him to have impact - he was not Len's only supporter. Can you think of who else might have given him a hand?"
"Prince Merndil?"
"A possibility, though given his disposition I assume the extent of his interference was to ask father to remain neutral on the matter."
A positive response, though Erzyl's countenance suggested he failed to grasp the primary threat.
"The . . . brother he mentioned?"
"Definitely. Regardless of whether or not their relationship is genuine, the mere act of offering his name would sour the jury to the worst of punishments for fear of a diplomatic incident."
A stronger response, though he still wasn't signaling an end to this inquisition.
". . . his lawyer?"
"That would be a given, though your own lawyer had a plethora of measures ready to counter him."
Another miss, but try as he might to think of other supporters Rishtahn was coming up empty.
"I apologize, but nobody else comes to mind."
"No matter. If you had been able to produce her name, I'm almost certain we wouldn't be having this conversation."
"Her?"
"I refer to his adopted mother, wife of Arrelois and sister of the late Empress."
"Why would she be involved? Everyone I've talked to says she expressed no support for him."
"Mm, there's the mistake. You are familiar with her family, correct?"
"I'd be a failure of an imperial official to not know House Eraora."
"Then you should understand how their public facing assets operate."
"They collect and disperse information necessary for their aims and serve as a point of contact for the Emperor or his vassals to notify them of potential danger."
"Correct, but that's not all. While it is true she serves as a pin for their operatives to work around, she also has an obligation to conceal and diminish any vulnerabilities related to her family so that their operations are not disrupted. This includes stains on her reputation, which itself is an asset in the machinations of her family, doubly so if we consider she is something like their 'princess'. The patriarch of the family has always been quite fond of his sisters, you know?"
Rishtahn's stomach sank a little. It was a subtle reference to something that happened well before he was interested in such things as politics, but he would be a fool to misunderstand.
"Regardless, I think you would agree that a woman of the high nobility adopting a child of questionable origins would be something of a headache. Granted, the . . . eccentric nature, of her husband could alleviate it to some degree, but it would still offer those nagging and jealous crones in high society a sore point to take out their frustrations on."
"My mother comes to mind." His little joke earned a smirk from the prince. The two of them were well aware of how bitter she was as a person.
"Exactly. Now, you claimed she has not offered any support for Len, correct?"
"That is correct."
"Has anyone said she acted in an openly hostile nature towards him?"
". . . no?"
"Then how do you know she doesn't fancy her 'son', and is merely distancing herself from him to fulfill the obligations as both a social face of House Eraora and Matriarch of House Arre?" Erzyl once more reclined in his seat, ceding the floor to Rishtahn in a way. "I implore you remember the nature of her family, and how focused they are on espionage. Concealing or disregarding her affection would be child's play."
"Are you . . . are you implying House Eraora would have tampered with the trial in some way?" At this point in time, the stance of Madam Linarin towards Len wasn't something worth pondering. It was in the past now, and beyond his ability to affect. Better to focus on the point his lord was trying to make.
"It's a possibility."
"Truly?"
"I'd give it a one in ten chance, yes."
"You interceded for a one in ten chance?!" The mere proposition angered him somewhat.
"Would you gamble one of your most precious possessions for nothing in return?" The immediate aggressive response quashed such anger before it could manifest, more because it affirmed Rishtahn as precious to Erzyl than for any other reason. "It could have been a one in a thousand, no, a million, and I still would have interceded. Can you imagine the headache it would have been to keep you so close to me should you have been disgraced in court? To render someone I've invested so much time and energy in impotent for something so trivial?"
The two maintained eye contact for a time, broken first by Rishtahn. While he felt Len was in the wrong and therefore deserving of punishment, it was apparent his lord was angry at him for risking himself so.
"But your reputation-"
"My reputation will be fine, Rishtahn. As I said before, this suspicion of mine was far from the only reason for getting involved." His voice softened somewhat. "After all, the reputation of a man means little if there is nothing for which he will stake it."