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Glen

Second of your name

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Altarin wasn’t as big as Castalor, it didn’t have its ports for instance and there were less Issirs present here, its population made out of Lorians mostly and some Desert people. The latter were Cofols that preferred living just outside the borders of the Khanate, or were just fucking spies, as Jinx in her cynical manner described. The city itself much as Altarinport, a montage of three cultures, with stone, brick and marble making up for neat, colorful and well maintained neighborhoods. Built on the south bank of Teid River and facing the distant mountains, it lacked fortifications. The Lord’s residence, a two story walled manor reached via a spacious paved avenue that crossed Altarin at its mid-point, being the most secure structure Glen spotted, along with the barracks at the other end of the city.

The mercenaries and the rest of their entourage, chained pirates included, were led to one of the two smaller buildings situated behind the walls flanking the main; Glen and Sir Lennox following Sir Solomon Arno inside the impressive black stone and green marble manor.

 

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There was a large mahogany table before the occupied Lord’s throne, several smaller but comfortable chairs hugging it, quite a few goblets and a beautiful engraved silver carafe on its surface. Glen thought he could secure a fat purse for it, even at this market.

“Lord Reeve’s,” Sir Solomon made the introductions. “Sir Laurel,” The thin and wiry built young man wearing plate armour and spurs narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Glen.

“Sir Lennox,” The Lord of Altarin and the Duke’s Shield, Elliot Reeves said. Over sixty, he’d short cut white hair, a well-groomed white beard and sported a darker-shade of amber eyes than Glen, another bizarre coincidence. “I take it, the young man is Glenavon?”

“Aye, my Lord he is,” Replied the knight.

Glen, having played out the scene in his mind a good number of times, stepped forward stiffly and bowed his head deep. “Lord Reeves, it is an honor to make your acquaintance!”

His voice climbing up an octave at the last part, ruining it a bit.

The old man examined him silently for a moment, the hint of a smile on his mouth, before turning to Sir Emerson.

“I welcome you to Altarin, Sir Lennox. I understand, you were on good terms with my son.”

“Thank you, Lord Reeves,” Emerson grunted, as much polite with Lords, as he was with the common people. “Unfortunately, I couldn’t provide help this time.”

The old Lord nodded once in understanding.

“Nephew,” Lord Reeves said to the frowning younger knight watching their exchange, Sir Laurel. “Leave us please. While it is a family occasion, matters of state will be discussed. Everyone else, clear the room.”

 

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The moment everyone had cleared out but for Sir Solomon, who had quietly stayed back to guard the doors a good distance from them in the large hall, Lord Reeves got up, walked towards the table and helped himself to a goblet of white wine from the fancy carafe.

He refilled the silver goblet once more, before speaking.

“You can approach, Sir Lennox. You too young man,” Lord Reeves stared at the contents of his goblet before continuing. “It’s a local vintage, vines make this yellow-green small grape, of excellent taste. Please have a cup with me, Sir Lennox. Young Glenavon as well.”

Glen made to move towards the table, but Emerson stopped him putting a hand on his chest.

“He doesn’t hold wine that well, my Lord,” He said, to the watching Lord Reeves.

What?

Glen narrowed his eyes, furious with the knight stabbing him in the back.

“Why is that?” Lord Reeves asked curious.

“He lived with his uncle, a Northman,” The knight explained, as if anyone would believe that! “He is more partial to ale, I think,” Sir Emerson added.

Well that was better, but still not good enough, Glen thought still miffed.

“A Northman,” Lord Reeves repeated, examining Glen more carefully now that he was standing closer to him. “Approach young man,” The old man said, apparently he wasn’t standing close enough, adding just as he started moving. “I want to have a good look at you.”

 

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“You got your father’s hair and my eyes,” Lord Reeves murmured, rough hand touching Glen’s face. “The rest, must be your mother’s,” he added after a thoughtful pause. The old Lord and also his Grandfather, Glen supposed.

Glen gulped down slowly, trying to keep still and avoid sweating too much.

He managed the first, failed miserably at the second.

“Where is she now?” Lord Reeves asked dropping his hand, but keeping his eyes on his face.

“She died, giving birth… to me,” Glen croaked. It wasn’t a lie technically. Lord Reeves scrunched his mouth, more wrinkles appearing on his face.

“I see. You are a bastard then?”

“Sir Glenavon had taken her as a wife, my Lord,” Emerson intervened. “Her brother, can vouch for it, as he was a witness to the event.”

“Where is he?”

“Here, with the others,” Emerson replied readily. “We were attacked by pirates on our journey, forced to stop at Bayspell. I found him there and convinced him to follow us to Altarin. He wasn’t easily swayed.”

Lord Reeves raised a thick white brow.

“Why is that?”

“I believe he feared inconveniencing you, my Lord.”

The old Lord laughed at his words.

“I can believe that. Where is he from?”

“Fetya. But he hasn’t been there in years,” Emerson replied. “Perhaps Sir Glenavon thought it was unwise politically to bring a Northern wife here. After she died, well…”

Lord Reeves let out a deep sigh and went to refill his goblet a third time.

“He didn’t want to repeat, what his father had done to him is your meaning, Sir Lennox,” He said, his tone neutral. “I never married his mother. I couldn’t. My father had arranged for me to marry a child, at the time. After she died, it took me a long time to recognize him, despite Glenavon living here. When I did, I had already bequeathed most of my lands to my brother and I suppose, my nephew that was just here,” Lord Reeves smiled. “I guess he’s rather nervous, I might decide to take everything back.”

Sir Emerson didn’t comment to his long diatribe, preferring to taste the local wine. He made a grimace, when he did, which was strange as the wine was excellent according to Glen.

He’d managed to gulp down his, when no one was looking.

Its effects already making him woozy.

 

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“When did you see him last?” Lord Reeves asked, snapping Glen out of his euphoric state. He licked his lips, before answering, the taste of the wine strong and a little bitter.

“Ahm, I found him… on the shore,” He answered trying to remember the ‘correct’ version of events.

“Wait, when was this? You mean after he left to deliver the message?” The old Lord snapped, with a frown.

“Aye. Bodies washed out on the beach. I went to see what was going on, lots of people came to the island that day, strangers and Cofols. Though I didn’t know that at the time.”

“Cofols?”

“Assassins,” Sir Emerson explained.

“After I talked to him—” Glen didn’t manage to finish, as he was interrupted again. It was messing up with his rhythm getting stopped every time and ye gotta have that, to lie properly.

“He was alive?” Lord Reeves asked, interest piqued.

“Barely. I believe he was poisoned, but still managed to get to a boat and reach Shroudcoast,” Glen replied as confident as he could, making it up as he went along.

“What did he say?”

“Not much, wanted me to have this returned,” He retorted readily, offering the shield-shaped gold badge to the old man. The Lord of Altarin took it slowly in his hand, shock in his face and eyes misty.

“What happened to their ship?” Lord Reeves asked no one in particular, his eyes on the gold badge, a thumb caressing it gently.

“A Cofol assassin got to him and the ship,” Lord Emerson answered, seeing Glen pretending to be sad, to get the most out of the gold trinket. Not that the knight knew he was doing it. “Admitted as much, when she cornered us later. They were looking for his body.”

“I tried to get help… but the moment they saw the Shield, they tried to kill me,” Glen continued the knight’s words, milking it for all it was worth. Half of it true, the rest made up. “I circled to the shore, got his body… on the boat and escaped into the sea.”

“Where is his body now?” Lord Reeves asked quietly, securing the badge on the right side of his tunic.

Glen sighed, unsure what he’d told the knight about this part.

“I buried him near a clear water spring. At the beach, where I washed out.”

“He means the Lazuli Peninsula,” Sir Emerson helped.

“I got lost,” Glen added, lowering his head. “Sailed way out of course.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Lord Reeves decided, old wrinkled face grim. “We need to find him and bring his body back. But it can’t be done right now.”

Glen nodded, unsure if he could find the grave again.

“You said she admitted it later,” Lord Reeves asked the knight.

“Sir Glenavon, sent word asking for assistance, when he reached Kaltha,” Emerson said. “The same people trying to kill Glen after murdering your son, hunted me down as well. I also run to Lazuli Peninsula, but from Castalor. I almost didn’t make it, as they were intent on covering their tracks and steal that letter,” He pointed at the sweating young thief. “Met him where Oakenfalls once was. Knew who he was, the moment I laid eyes on Sir Glenavon’s sword. Watched him carve the words on it myself. This story surprised many that heard it, but it is true on my word of honor, my Lord.”

Lord Reeves nodded, accepting it.

“What happened next?” He asked, wanting to learn more details.

“That Cofol assassin followed us there, with some hired blades. Probably it was me that led them to that plaguin’ place, for that I’m not as sure. The boy killed her in the scuffle, other people were lost as well, like my squire.”

“So you’ve taken Glenavon in his stead. Was that the reason?” Lord Reeves queried.

“It’s what his father wanted. Him as well,” Sir Emerson replied.

“You know, I prefer him under one of my people,” Lord Elliot said, staring him intently.

“You’re the Lord of Altarin and his closest kin, should ye accept him,” Emerson said simply, crossing his hands on his chest. “I wanted him to reach here safe. I owed it to his father and my friend. On yer word, I shall consider my duty fulfilled.”

“Don’t take it the wrong way. I appreciate your help, Sir Lennox,” Lord Elliot pointed.

The knight nodded. “As I said, it is your call, Lord Reeves. Your decision and yours alone.”

The old Lord rubbed his forehead with a hand, then signed for them to sit on the table. He took one chair for himself, the frown on his face easing for a moment, as he watched Glen sitting next to him.

“I’m an old man,” Lord Reeves started. “Only thing I wish for right now, was for my daughter to be here and spend the day talking with you about your father,” He turned towards the knight sitting across from him. “But I can’t. Time is precious. I know you delivered Glenavon’s message to the High King.”

“We did. To an official, a good friend of mine,” Sir Emerson replied.

“Well, that’s what I was informed happened. No point in rehashing it, and I’m growing rather tired,” He paused, glanced at the silver carafe and then at Glen. The old Lord caught him with his cheeks puffed out and smiled warmly for the first time. “Pour me another cup Glenavon. Meeting you, was a welcome surprise young man. Gods give same as they take. I guess, you’re the second of your name now.”

 

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“Did you ever come to find out,” Lord Reeves asked sometime later. Sir Solomon had joined them at the large table. “What was in the letter the Duke sent?”

“We haven’t,” Sir Emerson replied. “Though I inquired. Several times.”

The Duke’s Shield stared at his right hand man deep in thought. Glen, a little tipsy, stared his way as well, found nothing of note.

“Antoon agreed to send the first Royal Foot to Rida. It will arrive in the next couple of weeks. Elements have landed already,” Lord Reeves said.

“Has the Khan declared war?” Sir Emerson grunted.

“It doesn’t matter,” Lord Elliot Reeves’ nonchalant reply, stunned him.

“It doesn’t? Why would the Duke, or the High King for that matter, wish to escalate this further?”

“There is no other way.”

Sir Emerson snorted, pushing back on his chair.

“I know your family holds power in Lesia,” Lord Reeves said seeing him seething in silence. “The Duke, whom I serve, is a vassal to Kaltha. I want your word, what I will say to you now, won’t reach them.”

The knight narrowed his eyes, not liking it. Glen on his part, had almost fallen asleep, the politics boring to him.

“If it involves Lesia, I can’t make that promise, Lord Reeves,” Sir Emerson replied.

“It does, in a sense. It involves everyone in the three Kingdoms, Sir Lennox,” He smacked his lips, face a little red from all the wine he’d consumed. “But perhaps it doesn’t matter. Soon there will be war.”

“Wishing for war, is not sound, Lord Reeves,” Sir Emerson warned.

The old man shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t. A Zilan visited Rida in the start of summer,” He started, missing the Knight’s shocked expression. “She asked for the Duke’s title and his lands.”

“A Zilan. That’s… impossible. Was she…” Glen couldn’t understand at first, why the knight was so stupefied, having missed parts of their conversation. The parts he didn’t miss still hadn’t registered fully.

“She was. Imagine this, Sir Lennox. The Heir to the Khanate, the next great Khan, will have her as his Queen consort,” Lord Reeves filled in the blanks he left and Glen perked up, suddenly all curious.

Have who, as his Queen consort?

“We can’t have that. Antoon can’t allow it,” Lord Reeves continued, his voice tense. “This land, his rule, the treaties. If a Zilan rules on Eplas, they don’t exist.”

“Was he certain though? It was a Zilan?” The knight asked in disbelief.

“A follower of Nesande. A vile witch, for all intents and purposes. My brother was there, but couldn’t confirm it initially. She used a spell, even dark magic, but it didn’t work on the Duke. I can’t tell you why, but he saw through her evil. The only thing he regrets is letting her leave, with her head still attached to her shoulders.”

A Zilan? Glenavon the second thought shocked, almost dropping from his seat.

Our Lith?

Luthos cock caught in a vise!

 

Then remembering more of the conversation, he almost recoiled in horror.

What in slovenly fuck’s sake, is a Queen consort?