I nod, “Precisely. Find out who owes money to the crown or to the Dukes. Offer them a discreet way to settle their accounts without selling a single acre... yet. By the time the snow melts, I want the Royal Fey Bank to be the true Lord of the Manor for half the valley."
“I will draw up the mortgage papers, Princess. Standard rates?" Jan asks.
I shake my head, “No. Competitive rates, Jan. Make the gold too easy to resist. Let them pay off their other debts with our gold. We’ll also be putting our competitors out of business in the process."
Many of the other banks have noble charters. Most are owned by the very men who have harassed me. They’ve chosen to smile at me with their teeth so they shall see mine. By the time they realize how thoroughly they’re hooked, it will be far, far too late. I own your food, your weapons, your trade. I am satisfied. For now. We’ll see what else they try.
Mid-winter was gratifying. Those plump, preening hens thought that they’d be rude to me and I’d gift them treasures like I did with Grethe, Ina, and Priscilla. Those women got treasures because they are treasures. The rest of them had to chance to at least be decent but instead they chose to be just this side of civil. Give me the bare minimum and you will get that back. Worse yet, they had the nerve to act as if I owed them something. I will tie your husbands in knots. Wait until you have to come to me to ask for the funds to buy more clothes, because I own your estates, your houses, your horses and even your dishes.
Aart’s wife really should have been nicer. I suspect she’s about to become a cautionary tale that drives the rest of them to make deposits into the bank. At some point, Oskar will have to investigate Aart’s disappearance. His eldest son will push the issue, if nothing else. His bones and maybe his jewelry will turn up in the midden eventually. I expect a good percentage of every sum these men give their wives will end up at the Fey Bank from now on.
One of the clerks scurries in, terrified. “Duke Webbe is here. He wants to see the Fey Ambassador immediately.”
Duke Webbe shoves the terrified clerk out of the way. His voice booms, echoing unpleasantly in the quiet space. "Announce me! I am Duke Webbe, Hand of the High Priest-King of Vupis, Shield of the Southern Temple. I am here to open negotiations for the Fey Trade Charter."
I glance up to spot a mountain of a man, flanked by two armed guards in heavy Vupian plate mail. He is draped in furs and the red heavy cloth of his theocracy. Inwardly, I grimace. I have heard enough of their customs to know that this is likely to be unpleasant for both of us.
I don’t look up from the ledger and I deliberately take my time turning the page. If he’s going to yell, he can wait. When I finally look up, I frown at him. "The Embassy is a quiet zone, Duke Webbe. If you wish to shout, the street is behind you."
Duke Webbe marches up to my desk and leans over me, trying to be intimidating. "I am not here to bandy words with a clerk. Run along, girl. Fetch the Ambassador. Tell him the Vupian delegation has arrived and we are not accustomed to waiting."
I push my chair back, giving myself room to defend myself, should it come to that. I give him a cold smile. "I am the Ambassador. I am the High Signatory of the Fey Courts in Centis. You may present your credentials to me."
Duke Webbe stares at me for a moment, before he barks out a laugh. "A jest. Very good. The Fey have a sense of humor. Now, truly. Fetch him. My time is precious."
I snort, “There is no 'him', Duke. I am the sole authorized representative of the Fey in this kingdom. If you wish to trade for our goods, you speak to me. If you wish to draft a treaty with us, you sign it with me."
His smile vanishes, replaced by a look of genuine disgust. "Do not speak lies to a Hand of the King. It is heresy to suggest that a nation as powerful as the Fey would appoint a female to matters of state. In Vupis, women do not hold property. They do not hold office. They certainly do not speak for Kings."
I smirk at him, “Then it is fortunate for you that we are not in Vupis."
He leans in, placing his knuckles on my desk, invading my space. "Listen to me, wench. I carry the seal of the High Priest-King. I do not sully his holy seal by debating economics with livestock. I will not lower myself to treat with a woman. It is unclean. It is beneath the dignity of my station."
I lean back in my chair, preparing to defend myself and give him a cold, flat look. "Then you will find your station very cold and very dark without our lamps or our heating crystals. My authority is absolute. There is no man behind the curtain, Duke. There is only me."
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
Webbe is incensed. “I refuse.” He straightens up, adjusting his heavy cloak. "I will not participate in this farce. I will return to my quarters. You will find the man responsible for this office and you will tell him that Duke Webbe refuses to be insulted. If he wishes for Vupis gold, he will present himself to me tomorrow."
I chuckle at his petulant attitude. “You can wait until the sun burns out, Duke. The answer will still be me."
Duke Webbe storms out followed by his guards. The clerk sags weakly against the wall.
I smile at the clerk, “That was unpleasant. Tell Haldor that man is no longer allowed on Embassy property. No one from Vupis is permitted without my express permission.”
The clerk scurries off to find Haldor. Jan sticks his head in, “I heard yelling.”
I nod, “I doubt that we’ll be getting any deposits from Vupis. I’ll end up putting him in place, one way or another. Either way, it’s no great loss. Their trade goods are substandard. Their own gold has been cut. Their currency isn’t pure. It’s why they’re so hungry for foreign currency. Centis gold isn’t polluted. One of their coins is worth about two thirds of a Centis coin.”
I arrive at the palace to find that the carpeting for the throne room that I commissioned is being installed. The runner that leads to the dais is a mossy green, like a path. The rest of it is Centis blue with the Fey border that I designed. It is thick and plush. This will be much nicer to stand on when we have to stand around the court. It’s also much warmer than standing on the hard, cold stones. This is just the test fitting and adjustments will have to be made. They're busy marking out the adjustments.
Everyone is here, commenting on how much better this is to stand on and some of the colors of the creatures pick up the burnt orange from the cushions. It’s starting to come together. All in all, it’s an effect I’m happy with. It looks prosperous, which is what I need for the investors who are coming in the spring. The workers roll up the carpet and haul it back after they've marked where things need tweaking. Fortunately, Oskar hasn't seen it yet. While I’m contemplating this, Duke Webbe arrives.
He stops next to me, looking over my head, and scanning the room. “You. Girl. Where is this Lord Kenric? I have tired of waiting for a proper audience."
I sip my wine, not bothering looking up. Forcing me to stare up at him is a power play and one that I won’t tolerate. "Lord Kenric is currently discussing grain tariffs with the other lords. If you wish to discuss a Fey trade agreement for Vupis, you are speaking to the right person."
Webbe sneers down at me, his lip curling, “Do not play coy with me, female. My business is with the Fey Crown. The High Priest-King demands access to the Fey goods. I am here to dictate terms, not gossip with the harem."
I snort dismissively, “This member of ‘the harem’ decides to what gets signed and what doesn’t. As of now my answer is no.”
Duke Webbe blinks at me, confused. You’d think that a chair just spoke and refused to let him sit. "You... refuse? You do not have the capacity to refuse. The Pantheon of Fathers has ordained Vupis’s expansion. It is divine will. Go fetch the man. I will explain the theology to him, so he may sign the papers."
I shake my head, “The Pantheon of Fathers holds no sway in the Fey kingdoms, Duke. Your gods are male. My woods are not. You have nothing we want. Your gold is debased, your steel is brittle, and your manners are... tedious."
Duke Webbe steps closer, towering over me, as his voice drops to a growl. "Tedious? You speak of manners? In Vupis, a woman who speaks out of turn loses the tongue that wagged. We are not the soft men of Centis. We do not coddle."
I sigh, because he is tedious. They cling tediously to their horrible ideas and fail to see how foolish it all is. “And yet, here you are, begging, for a trade contract so you can buy our goods.”
Duke Webbe frowns at me “I do not beg! It’s not just your goods. The terms are simple. We require a dozen of your kind. Mages. We need them in the High City. It is a great honor. They will serve the King-Priest directly."
I look at him as if he’s lost his mind, “Definitely not. No Fey will set foot in Vupis.” I snort, “What do mean by serve? You mean they will be scrutinized by zealots looking for any excuse to light a pyre. I am well aware of your customs, Duke. You burn witches. You burn warlocks. You burn anyone who sneezes in a way your 'Fathers' didn't ordain.”
Webbe frowns, “We purify the unclean! Only wild magic is punished. Sanctioned magic, under the King’s leash, is permitted. Your people would be safe, provided they follow the rules."
I shake my head, "And that is exactly why I will not sign. The first time someone casts something you don’t understand or agree with, they’re dead. No."
Now Webbe tries to frighten me. He leaning in and projecting all the intimidation he can muster up. The bear I killed was more intimidating. He’s just loud and rude.
Duke Webbe growls at me, "I am a Survivor of the Blood-Culling. I slaughtered all my half-brothers in the Pits of Ascendance before my twentieth year just to earn my name. Do you think I fear a waif?"
If he were a tiny bit smarter, he would be afraid. Then again, if he were a tiny a bit smarter, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.
I look at him and shrug. “You murdered your own brothers? How... quaint. Any dog will kill its littermates for a scrap of meat, if it's hungry enough. That does not make the dog a lord among other dogs. It just makes it a rabid, feral dog."
It seems that Webbe caught my insult well enough. His face goes red.
Duke Webbe wags his finger in my face, "Watch your tone! We need those goods. If a trade contract is not signed, we will simply take what is ours. We will burn your kingdom to ash and sift what we want from the soot. And when we do, I will take you as a spoil of war. You would fetch a high price in the pits."
I pretend to be bored but I will be sending Ellisar a message about this. Now Vupis burns, too. It couldn’t happen to a nicer kingdom.
“Threats? You think to threaten us?” I pause for a moment to examine my fingernails. "Duke Webbe, you treat women as cattle, so you assume I am a cow to be herded. You forget that in the wild, the female spider eats the male. The lioness does the hunting."
? The Banking Offensive Continues
? The Duchess Debacle
? Aart’s Widow
? Enter Duke Webbe, Stage Left, Full of Noise, No Actual Power
was the man in charge, just shorter, sharper, and wearing significantly better clothing.
? The Trade Negotiation Attempt (if one is generous enough to call it that)
- Webbe: “Fetch me the real ambassador.”
- Ambassador: “He’s sitting right here, sunshine.”
- Webbe: “Women don’t hold office.”
- Ambassador: “Then it’s fortunate for you that we aren’t in your sad little man?temple of a kingdom.”
? Vupis Threatens War
The palace rumor?threads report:
- Webbe may not be done embarrassing himself,
- A message to Ellisar is imminent and likely to involve fire,
- And someone, perhaps several someones, are about to realize that the Fey don’t just dominate the economy… they dominate the battlefield, too.
There’s also talk of a very sharp lesson on what happens when zealot kings poke ancient forests.
Stay tuned, dears. The tea is only getting hotter.
- How would you handle Duke Webbe?