EdgarFig
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42. Sign on the Dotted line
🕑 Added 2024-08-11 21:28:32 +0000 UTC“Come now, Imperator, can’t we find a civil agreement?" Edarn Donez said, watching the harbor from his window. He swung back toward where Mark was sitting in the room filled with plush red satins and golden trim.
“Agreement? What did you have in mind?” Mark said, sipping from the surprisingly good tea he had been offered—a product similar to milk-boiled chai.
“I have decided that I will give you passage through Xaarn, but I do ask something in return. This is how the world works, after all. The ship captains pay me in gold and silver coins to rest in my harbor. The people pay their taxes, and the great navies give me their alliances. However, I have never taken in one of your Imperium’s flying ships, and as one might expect, I have yet to settle on what might be considered a fair exchange.”
“Go on,” Mark nodded and sipped. He saw little point in challenging the man until he found out what he wanted. Besides, they didn’t have a lot of wealth with them, and saving what little they had for when they reached the Archbishopric seemed prudent.
“You’re headed south, no?”
“I am, yes.”
“Might I ask—where exactly?”
Do I tell him the truth? Something tells me he knows more than he lets on. Besides, do I have any reason not to? If the Archbishopric has an issue with me, what difference will it make if he knows? The purpose of this trip wasn't to sneak it, but to see if common ground could be found.
“I’m headed to the Archbishopric of Deloise.”
“Ahh, you are an interesting one. It seems that I was correct about you. A great and mighty Imperator creeping into the cradle of his enemy. It sounds as if it comes from one of the great Sagas of the Sea. More importantly, it is exactly what I had hoped.”
“What a coincidence,” Mark groaned.
“I, the Great Edarn Donez Cu Tel Inferno, do not believe in coincidences. You have been brought to me for a purpose,” the extravagantly elegant man said, flurrying to the side and turning to point at Mark. “Not two weeks ago, I took a reading down in our fine city’s Mystic Quarter. This woman, old and wise as she was, told me of a great future. You see, her eyes plucked out as a child, yet she sees more than either you or I could ever imagine. She told me of a stranger coming to my door. She described this stranger as a harbinger of change. So, you can imagine my surprise when my people told me of an Imperator casually walking the streets of my great city.”
“I suppose,” Mark said cautiously as his gaze followed the man dancing around the room as he animatedly told the tale.
“Oh, Imperator. Open your mind. The entire world does not function on that strange technology your people use. Listen, I do not shy away from fate. The Great Edarn Donez does not fear his future. When the Gods of the Seas grant me opportunity, I seize it. That is how I went from a poor urchin child to a deckhand, then a captain, and now,” he swirled through the room. “A king.”
“You’re a king?” Mark raised a brow.
“Well, not in the eyes of other kings. Not yet, at least. But this sailor’s journey is not over yet,” Edarn grinned, flashing several gold teeth.
“So, then, what is it that you want from me?”
“A very simple task. When you visit the Archbishopric of Deloise, speak of your journey through my lands. Speak of the Kingdom of Xaarn.”
“You just want me to call you a king?”
“Now you’re catching on, Imperator,” Edarn clapped.
“It’s not like I’m a king or anything. What value would my words have? Nor do I expect to have an audience with kings and their like.”
“No, you’re not. You’re better than just another king. The world is filled with kings. But you, you’re my harbinger of change, or had you forgotten?”
“If you say so. Fine, I won't argue. If that's what you want, I can do that.”
“Brilliant,” Edarn twirled toward a glass sat on his hardwood table and brought the red liquid to his mouth. “Imperator, I must ask, have you tried the wine? All the best stuff travels through Xaarn. It would be a shame not to try it if you haven't.”
“Pardon?”
“Huh? You don’t know? The harbinger of change has much to learn it would seem. You see, the Kingdom of Ioanos in the west comes the world’s greatest wine. Any and all of it headed for the Imperium passes through our great port.”
“That is interesting," Mark nodded, mentally noting the details. "Does anything else of value pass through here?”
“Anything else?” Edarn chuckled. “Everything else. We’re the gateway into the Imperium. Fine scents—perfumes, spice, silk—all pass through Xaarn. There are other ports that these goods pass through, of course. But in the West, we reign supreme.”
Okay, this guy could be important. Best I keep on his good side.
“Most impressive,” Mark nodded. “You have a deal, King of Xaarn. I will tell everyone of value about the King of Xaarn.”
“I knew it,” Edarn pointed intensely at Mark. “You get it. Just as the eyeless woman said. I have found my harbinger! Change is coming.”
**Clay**
He could hear shouting as he ran, but the voices seemed to echoed from the direction that Leonard had led the wagon, and with any luck, the tavern patrons were not aware that he had broken off from the others.
Several log cabins were set in lines behind the tavern for traveling fortune seekers of all kinds, and it was where the recently hired sellswords were living. But Clay had no idea what the men might be up to. They didn’t expect the wagon to leave until the morning, so there was no telling whether they would be ready to leave or what they might be spending their last night in Frostwind doing.
As he neared, Clay spotted a couple of men drinking from bottles beside one of the cabins. They had candles, but the light was too dim to make details until he was within a couple of yards.
“I recognize you,” Clay panted. “We hired you lot, right?”
“Who’s that?” One of the men crooked his head.
“That’s the pipsqueak acolyte,” another chuckled as he drank. “What do you want, little boy?”
“We’re leaving now. The wagon’s already on the move. Get your shit and follow me.”
“Like the devils we are,” one of them spat at the ground. “You said morning, and I’ll be damned if I ain't gonna hold ya to that.”
“Look, too bad. We’re leaving now. You either come and get paid, or you don’t,” Clay said, swallowing his courage.
“Lookie here, who does the little runt think he is?”
“There's more than one way to get paid,” one of them stepped forward, gripping the handle of a dagger sheathed on his belt.
“Look, I don’t have a crown on me. All the money is with the wagon. You can kill me, but it’ll only make you enemies with an Imperator and no coin richer.” I can't believe I just said that. Please, please don't kill me. God-Lord, see me through this, I swear I'll be better.
“Hold up, hold up,” another man grabbed the mercenary’s arm, halting his advance on Clay. “Let’s not be stupid. No point making us enemies out here. Least not if we ain’t getting rich doing it.”
“He’s got a point.”
“So, are you lot coming or not?” Clay said, nervously looking around. He hadn’t heard from the tavern patrons in a short while, but he certainly didn’t want to stick around longer than he had to.
“Fine,” the mercenary growled. “But do this again, and I’ll have your neck,” he pointed intimidatingly at Clay.
"Just like that we listening to the little boy?"
"Oh, shut up," one of the sellswords barked. "If ye don't want coin stay behind."
“Good," Clay nodded and swallowed. “Let's hurry up, then. The wagon won't be waiting around. We've got to get moving.”
***
The remaining eight sellswords—those who weren’t already at the tavern and followed Leonard to the wagon—gathered with Clay outside the cabins—most of their belongings packed into bags.
"Alright, let's go," Clay waved them on.
Crunching through the snow in the dark, they sped out from the camp, using a different exit from its walls.
The escape had been hasty, and Clay hadn’t made plans where to meet with Leonard, but he suspected the caravan master would be near the wooded areas around a fork in that split the walked paths leading to Frostwind. It was where other trading trips had gathered and likely where they would default to.
As they ran through the woods, shouting echoed across the cool night, and metal clangs rang out.
Clay’s gaze narrowed as he spotted torch lights. Back and forth, he spotted their movement.
“A battle. Come on,” he hissed and waved the men on.
A man dropped to the snow as the group neared the torch-lit figures.
“About time you caught up,” Leonard shouted, turning as they approached and spotting the smaller figure of Clay at the forefront. Several bodies lay face down in the snow, and three men sat on their knees, blood staining their clothing. “I tried to warn them, didn’t I, Clay.”
“Yes, sir,” Clay nodded as he caught the men’s gazes.
“Oh well, some people never learn. May this be a lesson to you,” Leonard said pointedly. "Be smarter and live longer."
“What about Frostwind Trader’s Post?” How many people did you kill…”
“If you’re asking whether or not they’ll allow us to enter and trade again, then I’m not entirely sure,” Leonard shrugged. “But I think so. I’ve had a few issues in the past. They’re normally pretty good if your intentions were in the right place.”
“I’m not sure I believe you,” Clay gritted his teeth.
“Relax a little. We’ll be fine. Besides, the camp doesn’t get too much trade these days, and Fort Winterclaw has plenty to sell. I have a feeling they’ll be more than happy to see us next time we visit.”
“And what about these men?”
Leonard turned to their prisoners. “Them? Hmm, yes, I guess we take them.”
“Prisoners?”
Leonard shrugged. “Imperials with useful skills… possibly. That was what we came for, wasn’t it?”
“You intend to make them slaves?”
“No, of course not,” Leonard chuckled. “Slavery is banished in the Imperium. But I figure they can either work or walk back to Frostwind. Their choice.”
“That doesn't seem like much of a choice.”
“Exactly, my young friend. It’s fair, though. You attack someone, and there are consequences. That is how the world works. They are lucky I don't slit there throats. Many out here would. Anyway, with any luck, they will see the error of their ways, and we’ll get a little more manpower for the fort. The way I see it, it's a win win.”
“If you say so...” Clay grimaced.
“I do say so. Alright then,” Leonard shouted. “Are we ready to head out?”
“Not really,” growled a mercenary. “Your boy here interrupted our night. I’m more ready for a sleep than walking to your stinking fort.”
“Stay if you like. But whatever you decide, I hope you're smarter than these men."
"Stop whining," another mercenary growled. "We getting paid, ain't we?"
"Great, it sounds like we're in agreement. Let’s see how far we get tonight, shall we? I’m sure the Imperator will reward your hard efforts. If fatigue hits too hard, we'll rest. Now, before any other misguided fools come looking for us, I say we make some distance from the trading post,” Leonard flashed a grin.
