BECMI Chapter 91 – The Man in the Middle
The Baron of Torwell was sitting squarely in one of the most difficult positions in all of the North, because he was a Northern noble who hadn’t supported the rebellion or given up his oath of loyalty, but he defended the cause of the rebels!
Baron Sheldus was thus a man caught horribly in the middle of very opposed political forces. The Iron Graf wanted to reduce him to a mere vassal and take over his barony, and simply could not do so, both because Darkmoor would not allow it and because the Empire of Iberon didn’t want the Graf taking over more territory in the North and building up his own power!
This whole state of affairs was percolating in a slow boil of interwoven duty and loyalty, mostly because it was butting up against corruption and ambition that didn’t give a shit for either virtue.
The farmers of the surrounding lands seemed quite satisfied with their lord, as I could see no signs of resistance or rebellion among them, and the soldiers on patrol were treated with respect.
For some reason they didn’t want to delay the floating elfin in crimson and shadows whose giant Bat landed right behind her, and the score of dwarves in full and magnificent armor behind her looking impatient basically meant we weren’t delayed more than a handful of minutes. I made it plain we were going to Torwell and thence on to the Regency of the Halls, and we had no violent intentions in these lands.
The Baron had a non-aggression pact with the Regency, a delightfully astute treaty between both parties that kept imperial forces away from the dwarves and Darkmoor forces away from Torwell. As a result, we were released quite quickly, the soldiers not wanting to irritate any dwarves, whose clans in the North basically acknowledged the Regent as the equivalent of a High King.
Thus, we swept down the Ironspur and its slow traffic of boats bringing down produce and grain from upriver to the well-walled city of Torwell.
A party of dwarves in incredibly fine armor and a powerful elfin known to associate directly with the King’s Council in Darkmoor were naturally persons of interest, and the officer at the gate was quick to see that. There was a runner heading off for the baron’s keep basically as we were walking through the walls after a perfunctory questioning, and the astute fellow went right ahead and invited us to visit the Baron directly.
“Not bad for a human town hereabouts,” Prince Ukker noted to me, marching at my side as we swung through the town in formation, the locals getting out of the way of the heavy footsteps coming down in lockstep and making it plain they were going to go through anything in our way… not that the guard running point for us wasn’t emphatic in clearing the road for what was surely a diplomatic envoy of some importance.
“No viable sewage system and the place smells of horse dung.” Always one of the hardest thing for cities to deal with. If there were a lot of horses, they produced more dung than could be broken down for fertilizer without a whole ecosystem devoted to it. When pack animals were the best way to move goods, dealing with their crap was a job in and of itself.
“Going to help them with their stonework?” he asked curiously.
“You aren’t looking behind us, or you would have noticed the cobblestones being fixed as we pass.”
All the dwarves smiled into their beards at the dry answer. They had long figured out that I was both iron-hard and ultimately quite generous with things that didn’t really cost me much effort and were truly helpful. Asking me for stuff expectantly annoyed me greatly, especially if someone could do it themselves.
Fixing up roads and walls and stonework around me? It just happened automatically. The dwarves sometimes made a game of following me around in new areas and just watching all the subtle repairs and corrections I made to everything. Not looking back or down to see the stones getting resettled, holes filled, borders crisp, everything smooth and leveled, was actually pretty difficult.
The delay before the people noticed it meant that wondering murmurs followed us all the way to the baronial keep, Torwell Castle, a solid fortification built into the center of the town as a fallback point, the roads to all four walls kept clear and open.
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We were shown in with minimal fuss. Prince Ukker, Revered Cruxin, and I were shown in to meet the baron, while the others cooled their heels in the antechamber, basically seeming to go to sleep in perfect formation on their feet. They thoroughly intimidated the guards around them, and completely listened in on what was going on in the other room in Markspace.
“The Lady Edge and the dwarves of the Free Company,” Baron Torwell greeted us, coming down off his chair immediately to meet us as equals. “Your reputation precedes you, Lady, noble sirs,” he said politely, offering us all partial bows, which we returned in kind.
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“Doubtless exaggerated by minstrels with too much wine on their lips, Your Lordship,” I returned evenly, which was probably true, as multiplying the numbers of enemies by five or more seemed to be the average veracity of tale-tellers of this era.
He was middle-aged, going gray of hair and mustache, a bit red-eyed and slightly paunchy despite what were obviously great efforts to stay in shape. His face had a lot of worry lines right now, but the man was a Sixteen Fighter, and knew his job as baron and military commander quite cold.
Also, a solid Silver. A Good man in a terrible position, but not buckling to the pressure.
“I admit not expecting you to be moving through my barony, Lady Edge,” he said politely, ushering us toward a low table that dwarves would not feel uncomfortable at and we could all sit around easily.
“Our actual goal is Overstern and the Regent, Your Lordship,” I replied smoothly as he brought wine for us and mead for the dwarves in with a wave of his hand to a waiting servant. I flicked an eye over the drinks, always suspicious, but let them pass without comment. “However, Archbishop Jordie prevailed on me to stop by the Abbey across the way and answer some pressing questions once he learned of our intention to visit Overstern, and since Torford Abbey was right on the way…”
The Baron’s neutral expression instantly became grimmer. “The Bishop believes you can find out what happened to the people of the Abbey?” he asked, clearly interested in this, and even struck his fist on the table solidly. “At last! It was a foul deed, and discovering the truth of it will put many suspicions to rest, many of them directed at me!”
He was indeed confident that he wouldn’t be discovered as the culprit, and there was no Black on his soul for what would certainly have to be a murderous deed… unless the Abbey was itself corrupt and not the bastion of holy men that it had been acclaimed as throughout the North.
“His Holiness’s opinion is that it was agents of the Iron Graf, which is very convenient for all concerned, save the Graf. Turning the North against you would have driven you into his arms if they considered you guilty, but the words of the Archbishop seem to have great weight.”
The Baron nodded emphatically. “He is a wise and understanding man, and he did not use the moment to play politics. Would that his counterparts in the Empire had a tithe of his compassion and understanding,” he scowled, an old internal argument playing itself out inside him once more.
“You are aware that if we find out the Iron Graf is indeed behind the disappearance of the monks, it will likely have dire repercussions for tolerating your loyalty to the Empire, Your Lordship,” I warned him quietly, sipping at my wine calmly. “From what I have learned, you are greatly respected as an honorable neutral party, holding to the best of what the Empire can represent… while the Iron Graf embodies the corruption and lust for power that is what the Empire actually is, and is their chosen agent. Tolerating and maintaining loyalty to a regime that allows the slaughter of the monks will make you look insane.”
His frown was deep and grim. “I am aware of that, Lady Edge. But the Iron Graf maintains his innocence in this matter, although he is unconvincing. The Abbey supported the rebellion of Black Antius, and was a strong backer of Archbishop Jordie, who stands firmly against the Iron Graf’s influence here in the North. Its destruction was certainly useful to him, even if it is being rebuilt and restaffed now.” He shook his head solemnly. “The Abbey was a great contributor to the city, and helped us with many raids from beast-folk and raiders alike. Torwell suffered only losses with the monks vanishing.”
“I agree that striking against the Abbey was a very bold move, being part of the Imperial Cult as they are. The Iron Graf risks much if he did so and is found out. I will deal with facts and the final disposition of the monks before I make any judgment on this matter.”
“When were you planning on investigating?” the Baron asked calmly. “The day is half-gone…”
“I can be at the Abbey inside an hour, the time is of no consequence.” He just blinked at the revelation of my speed. “If you would like to come along, I have a feeling that would be useful, Your Lordship. You needn’t prepare a horse, I can transport you and your personal guards without effort, and return you all home easily.”
He looked somewhat startled and thoughtful at such a casual display of magical prowess. “The rumors I heard… were that you put up a new wall around Darkmoor, higher and thicker than the one currently in place, and a full mile from the existing walls, all in one night?” he asked me, clearly not ready to believe that so easily.
“I did indeed. Stone and I get along wonderfully well.”
His gaze turned to the two dwarves waiting there silently, and both of them nodded in confirmation of the feat. “Extraordinary. If I may extract a promise of diplomatic neutrality from all of you, and that you act without political motivation or judgment in this matter, I will be happy to go with you to the Abbey and learn the truth of all of this.”
“You have it, Your Lordship. While I will spread word of what I find, I will take no action against mortal perpetrators unless they act against me,” I agreed promptly.
“The Regent’s neutrality with Torwell stands for all dwarves in the North,” Prince Ukker also spoke up firmly. “We will raise no axe against you, regardless of our findings, Baron Torwell.”
“Excellent.” He clapped his hands and stood up, a sign for us to do the same. “Then, if you will allow me, we can engage in a short lunch for yourselves and my people, then I will equip myself and we can be on the way within an hour, if that would be amenable?”
I nodded slowly. “We will still get there in the early afternoon. It will not be a problem, Your Lordship. Please lead on.”
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The fare for lunch was simple but wholesome, mutton pies and fresh apples with hard cider for all. True to his word, Baron Torwell was clad in his old but serviceable plate armor on time, and he and his men sat aboard the Disks I waved up for them. Duum took off for the skies, and I headed out through the southern gate of the town with my own wings out, heading for the bridge over the Forge.