A Pact Between Equals
Canardia
Harvest festivities were over, yet the market in Canardia brimmed with life. Peddlers shouted every kind of ware imaginable, and the roads were crowded with carts carrying all manner of goods from across the Shogunate. Everyone claimed their prices would soon rise, for the Southern Trade Caravan was preparing to depart the city, returning to their provinces of Halicia and Ekionia. They would travel under escort through Korelia and Three Hills before crossing the narrow gulf to reach Dawn. News of Lord Avery’s victory in Kapua had already spread, and it seemed the return journey would be smooth and prosperous.
Many of the caravanners had stocked up on silk, for Midlandia was known for it, having learned the craft and cultivation of mulberry trees from Tiberia since before the Ageless Era. They also purchased spices, salt, fine linens, the latest almanacs, books, silverware, beeswax candles, and a myriad of other goods, including the Lord’s Hair Elixir and Medicinal Soap.
News of their imminent departure and possible price hike sparked a frenzy of last-minute purchases for exotic goods rarely found in Midlandian markets. Ekionian optics were especially prized: reading glasses and far-sighted monocles were the most sought after. There were also potent medicines, incense, fine ceramics, glass beads, refined oils, and rare jewels. Among collectors, items taken from beastmen, such as fangs, skulls, and pelts, were the most coveted, as the Southern Provinces often faced incursions by beastmen and had access to such spoils.
Though some feared such displays might offend the half-breeds living in the city, even they visited out of fascination.
Francisca was known to have bought a complete set of beastman claws for study. Several noble Houses also made their purchases out of curiosity, though most refrained from acquiring the rarest pieces, for the Lord Shogun himself had not done so and had advised everyone to be prudent with their spending.
While the city was filled with all kinds of noises from shouting peddlers, rolling carts, and the chatter of countless travelers, the higher quarters were much calmer. Guards stood watch along the streets, and carriages moved at a measured pace, carrying officers and noble guests. Inside one of the finer residences, Dame Daniella had just received her daily staff visit.
The Shogunate Bank had been steadily expanding. With the Caravan returning home, there were many last-minute transactions, withdrawals, and savings taking place.
Despite the recent wars in Nicopola, the Shogunate Bank remained capable of making safe transfers of funds from Dawn to many cities within the Shogunate. It had become the lifeblood of the Southern Trade, and the caravanners relied heavily on its services. Now, with the Dawn joined to the Shogunate, the Bank’s credibility only grew stronger.
But the caravanners were not all that Daniella and her staff had been handling. Starting last week, weekly payments for all retinues, staff, and men-at-arms would be made directly from the Shogunate’s account to each person’s savings account. This made it easier for everyone to withdraw their funds in any city and encouraged them to save, as the money was already deposited at the end of each week without them needing to visit the bank.
Though not all chose to save, most ranking officials did, having learned it was a good way to set aside money for horses, marriage, or even their first home.
This grand project kept Daniella and her staff very busy. Many of the Bank’s employees had once belonged to the lenders’ guilds that had been absorbed by the Shogunate Bank. They were paid well, and the Lord made it clear that he expected great results and had given them ample time to prepare.
In preparation for frequent transfers between branches, the Bank continued recruiting cavalrymen, preferably retired veterans with flawless records, to deliver coins and documents from one office to another. After much consideration, Daniella had chosen fast horsemen over slow-moving carts or carriages. Thus, the clerks who accompanied such journeys were also required to be skilled riders.
For extra measure, two nomads always accompanied each money convoy as added protection and to discourage any thought of embezzlement, for the Lowlandian nomads were known to be loyal to a fault to their Khan. With six to ten heavily armed riders and nomads, they were more than most bandits could handle. Not that Midlandia had much trouble with brigands anymore. Many who had joined the rebellion had been wiped out, and the rest were forced to change their ways, retreat into secluded corners, or flee into neighboring provinces.
With payments now made directly to the bank, the Lord's plan quickly reached the desired effect. More effective than a town crier’s shout, when people saw the troops waiting in line, cheerful and patient as they took turns to collect their pay, everyone understood that the bank was where the money was. Soon they realized it was also the place to keep their earnings, to move them to another city, and to save. Slowly, merchants began to ask questions, and many decided to give it a try, though trust was yet to be established.
They intended to open more branches, but there were still positions to fill, scribes and clerks to train, and regulations awaiting approval.
Progress had been further slowed, as Daniella was still unable to walk unassisted. The physician had ordered her to rest longer and to eat duck egg broth for her recovery.
Having heard of her condition, Camp Commander Karl, dressed in a fresh set of clean clothes, lightly perfumed, and carrying duck-egg broth from a renowned kitchen in the city, walked down the path toward the higher quarters.
As he walked, he hummed a catchy song he had picked up from the merry Dawn caravaners who celebrated Lord Avery's victory over Kapua. “From the palaces of Montezuma to the coasts of Tripoli, we wage our banner’s battles, in wind, on ground, and over the sea.”
It was unannounced, but Daniella was delighted to receive him. She had turned away many suitors who assumed her injury had changed her situation and would make her more willing to marry into their family. It had reached the point where she instructed the guards to accept only letters, for meeting new suitors on top of her duties would have exhausted her.
Yet she thought highly of Karl and never refused him entry. To her, the Camp Commander was a trusted comrade in arms. Without him, she would have died on that fateful night.
After a brief conversation, during which he kept her company as she ate the broth, promising to share the meal but taking only the first spoonful she offered him, Daniella protested, "Oh, Karl, it’s an expensive broth. We should eat together."
"It’s a gift. I can’t eat my own gift," he chuckled. "Go on, finish it so you’ll heal faster. I’m sure you’re bored being kept indoors all this time."
"Not really," she pondered, looking at the ceiling, then around the room. "That’s what a good lady of the house does."
Karl’s expression was hard to read, which prompted Daniella to ask, "Don’t you ever think of marrying?"
"Of course." His answer came without hesitation. "But I wouldn’t keep my wife locked inside a house. That’d be madness."
Daniella chuckled at his words. "Other men want it that way, so their wives remain chaste and pure."
"That’s horse shit," he blurted, making the Dame laugh aloud. She struggled to stifle her laughter.
"Pardon, my language, Dame."
"Oh, Karl," she said between smiles. "I never thought you were against tradition. But really, you’re well off. What need would your wife have to go anywhere? To the farm? To the market? At best, she’d be riding a carriage to visit the seamstress or the cloth merchant."
"Well, if a woman wants that, that’s fine by me." He inhaled. "But you know, I'm not the type who keeps birds in cages when they’re meant to be free."
Dame Daniella looked at him warmly, understanding his meaning. "You’re a good man, Karl."
"Irrelevant," he replied calmly.
His answer puzzled her. "How so?"
"I’m a good man," he repeated. "But to whom?"
"To your Lord, to your subordinates, to everyone."
"That's why I said it's irrelevant. What matters is, am I a good man for you?" His words, like his gaze, were strong and genuine.
Daniella was taken aback but kept her composure, chuckling softly. She was well acquainted with such moments. Far from her first dance of courtship, this was her eighth proposal since the start of the month, and more if she bothered to read the letters.
If it had been anyone else, she would have replied with, "That is smooth. Who taught you that?" A playful retort to weaken the moment and blunt the advance. Even if they had a follow-up ready, she could easily deflect it.
But for Karl, Daniella gave an honest reply. "That is so thoughtful. I’ll think about it."
"Of course." Karl stopped and slowly rose from his seat.
"Are you leaving?" Daniella asked, unease slipping into her tone.
"Well, after that last discussion, I’m a bit embarrassed," he admitted openly.
"Please, stay. We can talk about other things."
"Well, if you insist." He sat back down.
Daniella studied him for a moment, then decided to tease. "I’m quite shocked, Karl. I thought you had no ulterior motive."
"My apology," he replied quickly. "But I thought we’re both single, and I enjoy your company. So I promised myself that I at least needed to ask."
She giggled and took a sip to steady herself. "Oh, Karl."
"Apologies for being bad at noble courtship," he said with no trace of shame, only quiet confidence.
She looked at him warmly, explaining, "It’s like a war that neither side can win. You need to be persistent without destroying your opponent. You also need to know when to retreat and regroup, and when to push forward."
"What’ll happen if I win the war?"
She met his gaze and replied, "You’ll be insufferable, and women will leave you."
Both chuckled, and Karl said, "Well, I wouldn’t want that."
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
After taking a deep breath, Daniella studied Karl again. Though she saw a man in his prime, what she truly sought was his potential. "You know, they say finding a husband is like finding a shield. One that protects you from harm, from rain, and from misfortune."
“A shield maker must be the best husband then,” he quipped with a straight face, prompting Daniella to burst out laughing, not expecting a joke from that angle.
As she laughed, treating it as a victory, Karl took the wineskin he carried and drank several gulps. It was a strong wine, the best the town’s winery had to offer.
Watching him, Daniella extended her hand.
Silently, Karl passed her the wineskin, and she drank. The wine was strong but not harsh, rich with a deep aroma.
She handed it back, breathing heavily as the warmth coursed through her blood. Karl took another drink. They passed it between them several times until the wineskin was dry.
Afterward, they simply looked at each other, breathless from the heat, and found small reasons to laugh quietly.
After a long pause, she finally said, "For the sake of argument, what if... I say yes?"
Karl didn’t mind the question. "Then I shall put a golden ring on you, crafted by the finest artisan."
"You carry it with you?"
He reached into his pouch and drew out a ring. It was gold, with fine etchings and a small gem set at the top. The polish was deep and even, and the work so precise.
"It’s so pretty," she observed.
"The gemstone is functional."
"Eh?" She blinked, taking a closer look. Indeed, it didn’t look like an ordinary gem.
"It can emit light."
"This is of dwarven origin," she said in awe. "This isn’t something you could buy in Canardia."
Karl was amused by her reaction. "You’re a Dame. I couldn’t cheap out."
"Karl,” she protested, “this must have cost a fortune. As the head of the Shogunate Bank, I advise you not to make such a purchase but to save for your future instead.”
Despite her protest, Karl took her hand and slid the ring onto her finger, saying, "If you say yes, then you are my future."
Daniella bit her lip as she saw the ornate ring slide onto her ring finger.
“It looks good on you,” he said, now visibly nervous. The wine’s warmth wasn’t enough to dull the realization that he had just proposed to the most sought-after woman in the city, and his heart raced, thudding hard as he waited for her answer.
She smiled faintly, studying the ring for a moment before gently removing it and handing it back to him.
Karl exhaled through his nose, shaking his head in defeat. "I understand. I shall not trouble you about this matter again."
"Karl," Daniella called as the man rose, causing him to pause. She continued, "Put the ring inside a small lacquered box wrapped in silk."
"Pardon?" He was at a loss, but his heart was beginning to feel a flicker of hope.
"Give it back to me in front of the Lord and Lady."
It clicked in Karl’s head. "Then?"
Dame Daniella met his eyes. "I must warn you, I was born noble. I’m crazy on the inside."
"We’re all crazy on the inside."
Flashes of her baron father meeting another woman, and her mother’s tears, pushed Daniella to say, "My lover needs to be mad for me, and only me."
"I am mad about you."
"How about when I grow old, wrinkled, or crippled?"
"Our children and I shall care for you."
She looked pleased but said, "Not enough. I want devotion, the kind the Lord gives to the Lady."
"Dame, you shall have it," he said somberly, without hesitation.
Daniella suddenly rose on her one good foot, bracing herself against the table. Karl caught her by the waist as she tiptoed to give him a quick kiss. It was egg-flavored and far from graceful, but he followed with another, longer and far more passionate. The moment sealed their bond, and from that day, the two were betrothed.
***
Canardia
During the few days Lansius rested, the castle staff did everything they could to restore his health. First, they pampered him with a rich variety of food, hoping he would regain some weight. Aside from one carriage tour to visit the washing complex, they pleaded to keep him within the city. That was not much of a problem, as he mostly worked in his study. However, even there, they found clever ways to interfere. Not wishing him to overwork, they brought Mother Arryn to his study.
Thus, instead of dwelling on the number of men he had recruited, the bolts retrieved and repaired after the last rebellion, or the fresh shipment from Korelia, Lansius ended up talking with Mother Arryn. He gave her a small tour of his chamber, where several curious items stood, such as the water clock and the magical light. She showed great interest in the maps he had hung, and he gladly explained to her where they were.
Afterward, they talked about life, the changes, about Tanya, her still-missing husband, and also about Bellandia, not wishing to return there but concerned for how their neighbors fared. She truly wished she could have saved those she knew, but she understood that even to try would likely have brought new bloodshed.
"In war, only kings find meaning. Common people only find cruelty and heartbreak," she said with a somber tone.
Lansius gazed at her. She still wore a modest attire, though slightly finer now, since the maids insisted she should not look worse than them. "Mother, does the rebellion still trouble you?"
"What mother wouldn’t fear for her son’s life when thousands wanted him dead," she replied without hesitation. "But I’m no fool. I know courage when I see it. And your men," she met his gaze, "even the beasts, they all carry it strongly."
"Mother..." Lansius muttered. It was the first time she had spoken of it. Previously, she had only deflected the question. Perhaps now that the rebellion had passed, she could finally bring herself to talk about it.
"It's good that you’re not claiming things out of birthright. You have all this because you earned your men’s trust. And it’s best that you always remember that."
Lansius could only nod. It was a praise he never knew he needed.
Afterward, they sat down and continued talking for a moment or two, their words drifting from one memory to another until she decided it was late enough and wished to rest. Naturally, she urged him to rest as well, reminding him that he had only just recovered from a worrying fever. “Farmers say, if you drive your body too hard, it breaks before the field is done.”
Lansius snorted softly and complied with her advice.
If you tighten the gittern's string too much, it will snap. If you loosen it too much, it will not play.
He could not recall who had said it, but with that thought, he retired to the guest chamber that still served as his abode for the time being. Not even he wished to take risks with the baby. Furthermore, many were concerned that a baby’s cries at night might disturb his sleep. He did not protest. The chamber was well furnished and comfortable, and Audrey often slipped in at night or early morning to check on him, keeping him company.
...
Lansius awoke feeling off. It had been that way for several days. Not because he was still sleeping in the guest chamber, but because the bed still carried the scent of a woman. Her familiar fragrance lingered in the sheets. It was her perfume. Valerie’s. The whole chamber held that scent. He hadn’t realized it at first, but it dawned on him that they had placed him in Valerie's guest chamber.
In retrospect, it was only natural, as it was the most spacious one in the castle.
In a world where most inns or lodgings had bare wooden floors without beds or private rooms, this was to be expected. None of his staff found it strange. Privacy was a luxury, and communal living was part of everyday life.
To them, Valerie had merely been a guest. They never thought about whether she would mind or not, as it was not hers.
The thought never crossed their minds that, to Lansius and Valerie, it was her chamber.
What was even more odd was the brunette with hazel eyes lying beside him, watching as he stirred.
"How is it that you always wake before me?" Lansius asked, his throat dry.
Audrey didn’t respond at first. She sat up, took a wooden cup of water from the bedside, and offered it to him. Lansius drank it, then realized something. “Did you do something to my dreams?”
She frowned. "I didn’t see you dreaming, so I didn’t do anything. What happened in your dream?"
"No, it’s just that I had a dreamless sleep, and it was quite refreshing."
"Ah, that’s good then," Audrey said softly as she snuggled close to him.
"Remind me to get a new bed for this chamber," he said while caressing his wife's well-trained back.
"Why? This still feels comfortable."
"Yes, it’s likely custom-made. I don’t know where she bought it, but I think we can furnish this chamber with a spring bed."
"I see. Then I’ll put the order with the Office's scribe."
"Tell him I’ll pay for it out of my own funds, at market price."
"Of course. You’ve lectured me about that before. No need to repeat it," she replied rather hastily.
Lansius snorted. He had taught his men that it was a bad and destructive habit to order goods and not pay for them, even when the business technically belonged to the House. Everyone, including the Lord himself, was expected to pay in full for anything taken from the workshop, whether it was the Hair Elixir or the Medicated Soap. Otherwise, the workshop would bleed. By setting an example, his knights and retinue would never dare ask for more freebies that might drain the business’ coffers.
He made sure that his House paid in coin for the soaps and Hair Elixir granted monthly to his Shogunate members and his retinue. It was one of the few luxuries he could afford, meant to give his men a sense of pride in serving under his banner. For Lansius, however, hygiene, the risk of lice, and foul odor were his greatest concerns.
"So, what is our plan for today? You know, you or Mother can't keep me in the castle for much longer. I have things to do outside the city."
"Well, you seem much better. Let's plan for it after breakfast."
"Now, that's good to hear."
"Today, we only need to send the airship back to Dawn."
"Ah, so they're ready," Lansius muttered.
With Lord Avery's victory of Kapua confirmed, the airship was heading back to deliver materials as well as undergo a quick maintenance. It would return laden with goods such as grain, pasta, salted meat, crossbows, bolts, fire bottles, and even several knights, esquires, and craftsmen who wished to make a name for themselves.
It would be some time before Lansius could send a detachment to aid Dawn. For now, he could only send materials to support their cause.
For legality’s sake, Lansius had granted Lord Avery the right to remain in his region, as the crisis there was still ongoing. However, Lady Ella and Petra, her lady in waiting, who was in truth a rogue Saint Candidate in disguise, were staying in Canardia, or wherever Lansius would set up court, as part of the Shogunate agreement.
"When you meet Lady Ella, please say something kind to her."
"Certainly. But is there any reason why?"
"I think she might feel a bit guilty since you fell sick after her audience. She’s been asking about your health almost every day."
Lansius found the gesture warm. "Let’s invite her for lunch. I also have things to discuss with her."
"The secret behind her fast information..."
Lansius didn’t need to confirm it. She already shared his suspicion.
"Lans, there’s also a Hawk message from Sir Harold."
"Let me guess, he’s eager to assault," he ventured.
"Harvest is over. There are many who want to end the monastery before winter comes."
"The fact that harvest is over and they haven’t caused rain means we can’t strike," he argued.
"You still wish for them to reason?" Her tone held disbelief.
"No. I wish them to settle the matter themselves." He paused, then explained, "If you trap so many folk in one place under siege, without a strong, formal hierarchy, they will split into factions. I prefer them to turn on one another. I would rather they pay the blood than our men."
"I doubt they will deliver, Saint Nay, bound for our judgement."
"No. But even if they kill a fifth or a quarter of themselves in infighting, it will make things easier. Frankly, what I want is a secret letter or collaborators from inside."
"I think you hope too much from fanatics."
"We can afford to wait. Even Ingrid said there was little to worry over now that the harvest is done. What did Omin or Robert say about this?"
"They are not overly worried. They say we have a thousand besieging the hill, and reinforcements too."
"Then there is no pressure. Let us stick to the original plan for now: starve them out and force them to the negotiation table."
"Despite so many things, you're still a softie. But, Lans, don't change," she muttered, her voice almost a whisper as she snuggled closer, eyes closed. It was still too early to rise.
Lansius snorted, recalling similar discussions many times in their past.
Yet there were things Lansius could not explain to her. One of them was his fear of martyrdom. With the monastery having received teachings of a religion, he dared not act recklessly. He would rather see them kill one another than risk one of them rising to prominence.
"So, about the reinforcements. Any word from Valerie?"
"With you sick, the council diverted them to take a longer route, to instill order, and to let them celebrate the harvest along the way to the monastery. Why?" She smirked. "Missing her already?"
"Drey..." Lansius said in a disappointed tone.
But his wife gave him a teasing look. She crawled on all fours over him and whispered, "My Lord, this is a final test before I deem you back to health."
Lansius snorted. They were in Valerie’s bed, and it felt strange. Yet reason quickly fled him as Audrey began to unrobe, revealing skin no longer as tanned as last year, and a fuller, heavier shape of womanhood. He could see the faint veins beneath her skin, and her tips were moist with milk. There was no grin or pout on her face. It had been days, and both were simply longing for each other.
...
In full vigor for the first time in a long while, Lansius easily convinced everyone that he had returned to full health. That day, following the airship’s send-off and a private lunch with Lady Ella, the council and ranking staff finally had no more reason to worry about him. Thus, he was free at last to plan his journey. It would be a three-day ride to a distant valley he had meant to visit since last month.
For this journey, Lansius brought his family with him, along with the Canardia garrison riders and his mounted guards as his escort. With the assassin still at large, they did not wish to risk being underprepared against an ambush. His destination, however, was considered a well-defended site. Palisades had been raised around the important complexes, and a small camp was maintained near the village, with regular patrols and a checkpoint at a natural chokepoint. All of this was necessary, for Lansius wanted to keep the site a secret.
Little by little, changes had come to the realm through his many inventions. Yet, in the grand scheme of things, they were but small steps.
Now, Lansius would seek to usher in a greater change, one that he would see forged by his own hand.
***
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