Chapter 23: Charm |
Aside from the thirteen founding families, of which only eleven remain, there are a number of smaller branch families where the blood isn’t quite thick enough. When you add in families given noble titles due to great accomplishments, or families given titles for aiding in the submission of their own people or others the number of nobles across Drakthiss starts to number in the thousands. That means we only need to slit a few thousand throats to be done with them.
Speech by Dalmar the Dissident, documented to be used in a future prosecution
Solomon watched the town pass by as he rode in the carriage with Melissa. They were passing through the entirety of Moonfallow to get to Dame Pryor’s manor. There were a number of men and women gawking at the carriage as it passed by, unused to seeing them in their town. The people were much the same as those he’d seen before, but perhaps a bit more desperate, clothes patched more and cheeks a tad hollower. He’d have to make sure that the work he distributed wasn’t solely to those most conveniently located.
They reached the edge of town and travelled a bit further to reach a small manor. It was perhaps seven or eight bedrooms, with high windows to let in natural light and a finely crafted exterior that was in a relatively modern style. It was well accentuated by the garden which consisted primarily of rose bushes flanking the path leading up to it.
Melissa opened the door to the carriage to let him out and Solomon smelled the roses of the garden as he stepped outside. He thanked Melissa then Duncan as he walked up the path to the front door. There was a knocker shaped as the face of an angry bull with a ring through his nose. Solomon knocked firmly twice and waited.
He heard no sound as the door opened.
Standing in front of Solomon was the pale and androgynous servant he’d seen with Dame Pryor at the church. This time though, the man was glowing.
The servant bowed to him.
“The Dame is awaiting you in the sitting room. Please, allow me to escort you there.” His voice was as androgynous as he was, sitting somewhere above a man’s typical pitch and below a woman’s.
He was led into a well appointed sitting room with bookshelves along one wall filled with salacious romances and a window that looked out into the garden. Dame Pryor was sitting in a well cushioned chair with perfect posture, a cup of tea in one hand and a recently closed book in her lap.
“Dame Pryor," said Solomon with a bow.
“Lord Morrow. Welcome,” she responded formally.
“I apologize for not being able to make our earlier obligation.”
“I think, given the circumstances, rescheduling was appropriate. Though only barely.” Her tone didn’t change as she spoke leaving Solomon wondering whether or not she was joking.
“Please sit,” she said, gesturing to the seat across from him. “Threen, get him some tea and then retrieve us once lunch is ready.”
The pale servant nodded and poured some still-hot tea into a mug decorated with images of blue flowers.
“How do you take it?” he asked.
“Sweet,” replied Solomon, watching as the servant scooped four spoons of sugar into it before giving it a light stir and handing it to him.
Solomon nodded his thanks as he took the cup and took a sip. The tea was strong with a floral taste.
With Solomon settled, Threen bowed once more and left the room. Melissa also went to stand just outside the doorway, likely to sneak the small book she had out of her jacket pocket to read.
Solomon looked around casually. “You have a beautiful manor.”
“I’m sure it pales in comparison to your own, Lord Morrow.”
“The structure is large and impressive, but it lacks anything approaching style. Your manor is far superior.”
That caused the edges of her frown to twitch upward for just a moment.
“Thank you.”
“It truly stands out amongst the rest of Moonfallow.”
She nodded, taking a small sip of tea to clear her throat.
“There was a time when things here were far better. It was never the kind of town that would outdo Etling, but it was a pleasant place filled with good people.”
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“I’ve seen glimmers of that,” lied Solomon. “Little sparks of what it once was.” He had a sip of his own tea. “Can I ask what happened?” In truth he already knew the majority of the troubles had come with the ceasing of mining and logging, but he didn’t discount the opinion of a woman that had lived there her entire life.
Her frown returned. “I would blame the Bythars.”
“The Bythars?” They had been a noble family that had lived in these lands before anyone else. Their ancestors were chiefs that had willingly submitted to the empire. As far as he’d known they’d lost their titles some time ago.
“Yes. They’re like rats eating away at this place. Every time they’re given authority this town moves further into being a backwater fiefdom. When I was young my father blamed them for the accident that shut down the mine, and yet they wound up in charge again. I imagine you’re no fan of them either, given what happened to you.”
“What happened to me…?” Solomon thought aloud, his mind quickly connecting what she’d stated with what he knew. A vague memory of Marcus claiming to be a Bythar came to him as well, one that had been lost with all the mana and blood of that day.
“The mayor and the first watchmen? They were Bythars?”
She nodded. “Savages given authority above their station. I was happy to hear there was one fewer.” She sipped her tea, her expression softening a bit. “Though I was sorry to hear of what happened at your estate of course.”
“Of course,” he responded with a smile, nodding. Them being former nobility gave him more context for how they were so firmly entrenched.
“When I was a girl there were even rumors that they killed their wives. Some people said that’s what really cost them their titles.”
Solomon smiled. “That’s fascinating.” He took another sip of his tea. “Can I ask you another question?”
She nodded, she seemed to be warming up to him a bit. Gossip had that kind of power among noble women. Men as well, though they’d rarely admit it.
“I heard that there was once another noble family here. The Heartrees? I can’t say I’ve encountered any of them though.”
“Well there’s no surprise there. They moved to Etling some time ago. Your estate was once theirs in fact. When your uncle purchased it they decided to move. They had lost a fair amount of investment when the mine had failed. Though there is still one Heartree here.”
“Oh?”
“Me. My grandmother was a Heartree. Our families were quite close as the only civilized nobility here.”
“Ah, of course.”
Threen returned to the room. “Lunch is ready,” he said in his soft voice.
“My lady,” said Solomon offering his arm to her. She smirked a bit and took it, allowing him to walk with her to the dining room. It was as tastefully appointed and immaculately clean as the rest of the manor. On the table itself was grouse, several bowls of fruit, and freshly baked bread. A bit heavier than the typical lunch, but Solomon’s hunger made him grateful for it.
He opted to ask the questions every woman of age and power wants to be asked in order to get on her good side. How are your children? What were things like in your youth? How do you manage such a lovely estate? He listened to her complaints about her two sons that never visited, one an aide in parliament and the other a merchant in Etling. Then she spoke of her traveling to the capital in her youth and meeting the previous king himself who commented on her loveliness. Finally she heaped praise on Threen, who apparently managed the entire manor and her care by himself.
“He seems to hardly sleep, never complains, and always produces a high quality of work.”
“Well that’s very impressive,” remarked Solomon looking at the pale man in the corner still glowing with mana in his vision.
“Now, if I’m not mistaken he once worked for my uncle?”
“He did, but don’t think of poaching him back,” responded Dame Pryor with a bit of danger in her voice.
“I wouldn’t think of it. I was just wondering if I could ask him a few questions? I only recall meeting Victor once.”
“I can tell you that he was rude and solitary,” replied the lady.
Solomon smiled. “Everyone can tell me that about him.”
She nodded. “You may ask him. My jaw is aching from all this talking anyway. It’s been some time since I’ve spoken this much.”
“Well it has been a pleasure,” replied Solomon, feeling that he’d sufficiently wooed the widow. He turned his attention to Threen whose expression hadn’t shifted even when they were speaking of him.
“Can I ask what you thought of my uncle?” he asked.
“He was a smart man. Quiet. Had strict demands for what he expected of his servants.”
“I noticed that none of his servants were from Moonfallow originally; did he bring them from the Morrow Estate?”
“No. We were made to serve him in Lindal when he was living there.”
Solomon frowned. Lindal was a frontier city near the mountains between Drakthiss and Hurd. Very few people ever went there, or ever left.
“Do you know what happened to the other servants?” he asked.
This time he saw the mana within Threen shift, churning a bit.
“They were not as fortunate as I to find new employment here. They had to go elsewhere.”
There was no change in his tone or expression, but Solomon knew he was lying.
“Did my uncle have any hobbies? I’ve found many strange things in the estate since I’ve moved in.”
There was more shifting of the mana Threen gave off.
“He was an avid reader and a lifelong student. Beyond that little seemed to interest him.”
Solomon nodded. He wouldn’t get the direct answers he wanted from Threen, but the indirect assumptions he could make were nearly as helpful anyway.
“Thank you,” said Solomon. “And thank you for the food as well. It’s excellent.”
After a simple dessert of cake and some coffee Solomon said goodbye to a now smiling Dame Pryor and made his way back to his carriage where Melissa awoke Duncan with a quick and simple nudge before opening the carriage door for him. They rode in silence for a short while until Solomon noticed Melissa giving him a strange look.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
“Forgive me for saying this Lord Morrow, but you were quite charming in there.”
“I forgive you,” he responded dryly.
“I apologize, Lord. You’re usually just more straightforward.”
“Different people call for different approaches,” he responded simply. “With you and the other servants I don’t need to dance around things. With nobles like Dame Pryor things need to be handled more carefully. A good lesson for you as my Valet to take to heart.”
Her eyes widened.
“Your valet sir?”
“You’re already doing the job. I see no reason to put it off anymore. You are now my official valet. Your pay is doubled. I expect you to keep up the same quality of work I’ve seen so far.”
She nodded, unable to restrain a smile. “Thank you, Lord Morrow.”
“Solomon’s fine,” he responded, his eyes on the decrepit state of the road they were riding down.
