I laugh, but it’s a dry, humorless laugh. “By all means, Duke. Go to Kenric. But do mind your step. The floor is slippery for those who do not look down.”
Duke Webbe storms across the hall, shoving servants aside until he corners Kenric. He rants for five minutes about the insolence of Kenric's “concubine” and demands the contract be signed immediately “man to man.”
“You misunderstand the hierarchy, Duke,” Kenric says, clapping the fuming man on the shoulder. “I married well above my rank. But the trade? With the Fey Crown?” He points back across the room where Víl? is watching them with predatory stillness. “She is one you have to talk to about that. She's Ellisar's representative. If she said no, then you're out of options. Go back and apologize. She's the only official Fey representative here.”
Duke Webbe stomps back over to me and shoves a scroll at me, “Lord Kenric... washes his hands of this. He claims he lacks the spine to command his own wife. So, I am back. Here are the terms. Sign it.”
I step sideways to get away from his scroll, “You seem to have mistaken this court for a latrine, Duke. Do not shove things at me.”
Webbe is truly perplexed by my actions. “It is a standard trade agreement! We offer Vupian gold, minted in the Holy City itself, in exchange for exclusive trade rights and a permanent Fey delegation to reside in our capital, to oversee the manufacturing.”
I sip my wine and stare at him, “A delegation? You want me to send my people to Vupis?”
Webbe nods, “It is a requirement. We need your... magic users to instruct our priests. They will be housed in the Foreign Quarter. They will be fed. They will be protected, provided they obey the Laws of the Fathers.”
“The Laws of the Fathers.” I lean toward him, voice dropping to a dangerous chill. “I’ve heard of your laws. The same laws that say a woman is property? Laws that say magic not sanctioned by your priests is heresy? Laws that encourage brothers to butcher one another for a chair?”
Webbe nods, chest puffing out proudly, “Our ways are ordained by the divine! They ensure strength! Order! Something you chaotic creatures would know nothing about.”
I snort, “Your 'order' is a slaughterhouse, Duke. And you are one of the butchers.” I push his hand away, “I will not sign. And I certainly will not send a Fey delegation to your capital.”
Duke Webbe is angry again. His face is red, almost red enough to match his “holy robes.”
His fists clench, “You refuse the gold? You refuse the alliance?”
I shrug, “I refuse to sentence my people to death. To send a Fey courtier to Vupis would be to send a lamb to a pack of starving wolves. You would insult them, try to bed them, or burn them at the stake the moment they performed a cantrip you didn't understand. No Fey, not even the lowest goblin, not the most desperate pixie, wishes to set foot in your backward, cesspit of a kingdom.”
The shade of his face continues to get closer to his “holy robes”. I wonder if I can get them to match.
Duke Webbe snarls at me. “You dare insult Vupis? We are the apex of civilization!”
I laugh at him. “You are a brute and a boor, Duke Webbe. Vupis is a trap. It is a backward, stifling pit where you slaughter what you do not understand. I would sooner sign a trade contract with a troop of baboons. Baboons are more honest. At least baboons don't pretend their cruelty is 'divine will.' They just bite.”
Duke Webbe draws his sword halfway from its sheath. The metal rasps loudly in the court. He bellows at me. “Watch your tongue, female! You speak to a High Duke! I could cut you down where you sit and take the goods by force!”
I don’t flinch. I don’t even blink. “Draw that blade one inch further, Webbe, and you will die screaming.”
He freezes. His hand trembles on the hilt. He looks in my eyes and sees absolutely no fear, only a boredom that terrifies him more than rage.
Duke Webbe continues to shout at me, unaware of the silence behind him. “If you will not sign as a diplomat, you will serve as a slave! I will break that haughty spirit in the Pits, woman! You will learn that the Fathers, ”
Kenric is already in motion and has signaled some of the guards to intervene.
Kenric’s voice sounds like a whip crack, “Duke Webbe.”
He does not run. He walks with the terrifying, heavy cadence of a man who is about to execute someone. The guards have fallen in behind him.
My voice is cold and level when I speak, “Vupis offers nothing but headaches and liability. We will not trade with you. We will not visit you. And if you threaten me again, we will ensure that nothing grows in your fields but weeds and regret. Now get away from me.”
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Webbe sputters, “Lord Kenric! You hear this... this creature? She denies the divine rights of Vupis! She insults the High Priest-King!”
Kenric shrugs, “I heard her decline a contract. And then I heard you threaten to kidnap and enslave a foreign dignitary on Centis soil.”
“She is a female! She has no standing! I demand you chastise her so we may conclude this business.” Webbe insists.
Kenric steps closer, invading Webbe's personal space. Kenric is not as broad as Webbe, but he is made of sterner stuff.
Kenric chuckles, “You are confused, Duke. You believe you are in Vupis, where you can bully your wives and slaughter your brothers for sport. You are in Centis. And more importantly, you are standing in front of the Ambassador of the Fey.”
“A title bestowed in error!” Webbe yells.
Kenric shakes his head, “You think I stepped in to save her? You fool. I stepped in to save you.”
Webbe blinks at Kenric, confused. “Me?”
Kenric nods, “If you had drawn that sword one inch further, we’d be explaining to your king how you ended up splattered all over King Oskar’s throne room.”
A ripple of nervous laughter goes through the court. My expression doesn't change, but I relax slightly.
Webbe is shocked, “I... I am a Duke of the Blood! I have diplomatic immunity!”
“That may protect you from the laws in Centis,” Kenic says in a voice used to explain things to small children, “It doesn’t protect you from the Fey, if you pick a fight with them. If you threaten their ambassador, she has the right to defend herself. She’s quite capable of doing so. It certainly doesn’t protect you from incuring the displeasure of King Oskar for this open display of hostility in his court.”
Kenric signals the guards. They step closer to Webbe.
Kenric eyes Webbe coldly. “You have violated the Guest Right. You’re confined to your rooms until King Oskar decides what to do about you.”
Duke Webbe is flummoxed. “You are throwing me out? For her?”
Kenric shrugs. “I am throwing you out because you are a liability. Vupis wants a trade deal? Then go home. Tell your King to send someone who can speak without foaming at the mouth. Tell him to send someone who understands that Fey see things differently from either Centis or Vupis.”
Kenric turns his back on Webbe, facing Víl?. He offers her a slight, formal bow, a gesture of immense respect that shocks the Vupian delegation.
Kenric smiles at me, “Ambassador Víl?. My apologies for the noise. Please, join me for wine in the solar. I believe we have actual business to discuss, assuming the air is clear?”
I smile with far too many teeth at Duke Webbe, “The air is lovely, Kenric. After you.”
This idiot of a duke is left standing alone in the center of the room as the court turns their backs on him. He is humiliated, red-faced, and impotent in his rage.
Webbe shoves the sword back into the scabbard with a clang. He is breathing hard, humiliated and furious, as the entire court stares. “You will regret this. The High Priest-King will hear of this insolence. Centis will burn for harboring you.”
I smirk, “Tell him I said hello and to send a smarter messenger next time. This one is defective. When you complain to Oskar, have him show you his midwinter present.”
Kenric leads me away from him as the guards escort him back to his rooms to consider his actions. Kenric leads me into the solar, and we sit.
"What a tedious ass," I remark.
Kenric sits by the fire, oiling his sword. He doesn't look up, but he smiles.
"You bruised him, Víl?," he says softly.
"I was prepared to offer him a loan at three percent," I counter. "That shouldn't bruise him. It would save him."
"To a man like Webbe," Kenric explains, checking the edge of the blade, "saving him is worse than killing him. If you kill him, he dies a martyr. If you save him, he has to live knowing a woman, a foreigner, was stronger than he was."
He sheathes the sword with a sharp click. "He won't hate you for the debt. He will hate you for the competency. You need to leave him a scrap of dignity, or he will burn the house down just to prove he can hold a match."
I look at my husband. I realize that while I read ledgers, he reads pride.
“Now he’s threatened Hloir? Aralli? and Centis,” I say to Kenric, “With his bet with the dukes, Oskar can’t send me away. I rather suspect he’ll be headed home soon.”
Kenric nods, “I caught that at midwinter. What were you going to do to Duke Webbe?”
“Take his sword from him and teach them all a few lessons,” I reply.
“I can’t believe he tried to draw his sword on you in open court,” Kenric says, “What a fool! Why did he stop?”
“I told him that if another inch of that blade cleared his scabbard, he’d die screaming,” I reply.
“I have to send a message to Ellisar. They’ve threatened to invade and start burning the Fey kingdom,” I add.
Kenric grimaces, “Leton?”
I nod, grateful that he’s smart enough not to say Rimagia here.
Kenric nods, “What do you need?”
“I need to return to Varpua for a few days,” I reply.
“I’ll talk to Jellema and see what I can do,” Kenric says.
I sit talking with Duke Jellema about the expansion of the port. He's wary but excited to see it expand since some of the taxes and tariffs will land in his coffers. This represents a significant expansion to Centis’s economy.
“I need to find someone who can oversee the financial side of it but who also knows enough not to be swindled by the builders,” I explain, “I won’t be able to be on-site to oversee it myself. Mostly, I don’t want to be cheated, and I don’t want Oskar taking the gold to build another hunting lodge.”
Duke Jellema nods, “I know some people. I can arrange meetings. I'm surprised. Oskar never wants to invest in things like this. It's always hunting lodges and parties.”
“I might not have given him any choice,” I reply, “Fiscal responsibility isn't exactly in his repertoire. I'd like the investors, when they dock in Varpua, to see the construction. It will look good to them.”
I might even be able to sell part of it and recoup some of the investment.
“Investors from where?” Duke Jellema asks.
“Codegor, for one from several noble families there. They consider trade beneath them, but they're not above investing. Utaba, though I think that’s less likely. I suspect Utaba is showing up to nose around for some reason. I won’t do business with Vupis. Webbe already threatened both my kingdom and me, personally. Galia, Camor, Yatis, and Polosha have also written. We’ll see if they make the journey.”
If I were to place bets, Utaba will be one of the invaders when it finally happens. Their letter was too vague, too nebulous, and they’ve stopped responding to my inquiries. I’ve pointed out several areas where investments would be beneficial to noble families of Codegor. When I tried to do the same with these supposed investors from Utaba, to see what might interest them, it was more flowery language but nothing of substance.
Don’t ever try to use misdirection on a Fey. We’re masters of it before we’re out of childhood. We learn it even as we’re learning to speak. By the time we’re adults, we’re quite practiced at it. In short, I doubt anyone from Utaba is coming here to invest a single copper. I smell an even bigger rat than Aart. There are only so many reasons one kingdom pretends to be interested in investing in another. One of the most common is that you plan to invade and you want to know where to hit them.
? Duke Webbe attempted diplomacy. And by “diplomacy” we of course mean:
- shouting
- belittling
- waving paperwork like a toddler with a drawing
- and attempting an intimidation stance that would make a barnyard rooster cringe
? He demanded the Ambassador fetch “the man in charge.” The court is still laughing. Someone swears a tapestry shook.
? He tried to dictate terms to the Fey. Tragic. Adorable. Misguided. Like watching a pug try to fight a thunderstorm.
? He asked for a Fey delegation to live in Vupis. Cue horrified gasps, two swoons, and one man muttering “Is he mad?”(Yes. Yes he is.)
? He bragged about murdering his brothers. This did not have the intimidation effect he hoped for. The Ambassador’s comparison to feral dogs now has an entire betting pool associated with it.
? He drew a sword. In court. On the Fey Ambassador. In front of literally everyone.
? The Ambassador’s response? Calm. Bored. Deadly. The kind of composure that makes entire bloodlines reconsider their life choices.
? Kenric stepped in. Not to save her but to save HIM.(That line will be whispered in Centis taverns for years.)
? Webbe was publicly humiliated and escorted away like an unruly goat.
? The entire court turned its back on him. A social execution so complete the bards are already composing ballads.
? And now? Vupis has threatened to burn Centis and the Fey Kingdom. The Ambassador is writing to Ellisar. And everyone with any sense is quietly updating their wills.
“Webbe tried to roar. The Fey roared back. Now Vupis needs new leadership and possibly a fire?retardant cathedral.”
The rumor?threads predict:
- Letters with very sharp Fey handwriting traveling at suspicious speed
- King Oskar considering several forms of headache relief, none sufficient
- Jellema possibly recruiting a new financial overseer before his eyebrows fall out from stress
- And whispers, very soft, very sly, that the Ambassador is preparing a little “trip.”
Where to? With whom? And exactly how many nations should be nervous?
Tune in for more noble panic, diplomatic disasters, and the continuing education of men who really should know better.
- Would you call this courage or pure madness?
- If you were her advisor, what would you say right now?