Fate of the Tyrant (The Eoriel Saga Book 3) Page 8
Indeed, for less than a cycle's training and experience, Aerion already possessed a frightening level of competency. Given more cycles of practice, he would truly become a fearsome fighter. Walker shivered a bit as he thought of just how dangerous that would make him.
Even more impressive for his natural size, strength, and speed, Walker thought. Aerion was several cycles younger than Walker, still not fully grown. In fact, sometimes Walker could swear that he could almost see his friend growing. Still, Aerion stood over six feet tall and his broad shoulders held plenty of muscle, muscle gained at first wearing a blacksmith's apron and swinging a hammer at a smithy and more recently carrying armor and swinging a sword. And he was fast. Not as fast as Walker, but far faster than anyone as big as he was had any business being.
Given five or ten more cycles of fighting experience and growth, Aerion would be a very dangerous man. The kind of man that would even give Walker's father pause.
Walker's eyes narrowed as he considered that. He had no doubt that his father could defeat Aerion Swordbreaker, but given more experience, it would be an impressive fight. Granted, his father would never fight a skilled opponent fairly... or anyone else for that matter. Far more likely that he would shoot Aerion from afar, though with his runic armor that would be difficult. Perhaps he would slip poison into his meal or something similar.
Walker shook his head though. It was unlikely that his father would ever even think of a man like Aerion as an opponent. While Aerion had some minor influence with Lady Katarina through friendship (and his affection for her) and a little bit of authority in his position as a captain, he wouldn't even be worth noticing to Walker's father. Thus, poor common-born Aerion was safer than he knew, in Walker's opinion. While he might never win the heart of the woman he loved, at least it wouldn't make him a target to Walker's father.
"Thinking deep thoughts?" Aerion asked with a smile.
Walker matched that smile, more from years of practice than from any good feelings. While he liked Aerion and considered him a friend, his thoughts about his father had ruined any good feelings he had, probably for the rest of the day. Even when he doesn't know I'm still alive, so far away, Walker thought, the bastard finds a way to ruin my day. "Oh, you know, wondering how you're getting better so fast," Walker said, half truthfully. He still wondered what secrets Aerion's mother hid and what her relationship to the late Arren Smith had been. Certainly the old man had been more than he seemed.
"Well," Aerion said, "practice with you doesn't hurt." Most of Ghost Company were out in the chilly afternoon air, practicing formation and individual fighting skills. A good number, though, had formed up to watch the pair of them train.
Walker started to give a retort when the courtyard doors opened. He grimaced as he saw young Lord Jack and Lord Jarek step out of the keep. Most of his animosity towards the young man was in defense, he could admit. Walker had crossed blades with Lord Jack once, on a mission for his father. Walker didn't think the flighty young man remembered, but it wasn't beyond the realms of possibility that he would if his memory was properly jogged. Walker would rather not have his past revealed, especially not in as potentially explosive a fashion.
And as for Lord Jarek... well, Walker's animosity came from support of his friend. Aerion had only just told him about the overheard conversation between Katarina and Jarek. While Katarina had publicly accepted her late father's agreement with the Earl of Olsztyn that she marry his younger son, it seemed that she and Jarek had decided to marry quickly and then repudiate that agreement.
Not that I can blame her, Walker thought, even my father has said that Joris of Olsztyn is a snake, she wouldn't survive much past childbirth and he would put himself as the ward to her child, taking over the Duchy.
Aerion followed Walker's gaze and Walker could see his friend stiffen with anger as Jarek came forward. Oh, Walker thought to himself, an idea peculating, that could be fun.
Lord Jarek was the son of Lord Eliasz, the late Duke Peter's chief adviser. He had fought off Hector's assassins and rumor had it he had trained with Lord Jack and Lord Theodore's men in the Barony of Nine Peaks. He was a solid young man, a bit taller than Aerion but not has heavily muscled. Like Walker's friend, he was of Starborn ancestry... and raised as a nobleman, he had no doubt trained since childhood for combat.
Before he could hold his tongue, Walker said, "Look who came out to watch the peasants play at fighting."
Aerion's scowl showed that Walker's quip had hit squarely.
As Jarek came forward, Walker almost felt bad about it. The young man had a cheerful smile and gave a friendly nod to Aerion. "Welcome, Captain Swordbreaker, sorry if we've interrupted your drill. Lord Jack told me you were sparing and I wanted to come watch. Lady Katarina has just assigned me to Ghost Company, I'll be proud to serve with the most distinguished company in Lady Katarina's forces."
Walker was watching his friend carefully so when Aerion's expression went blank, Walker realized what that meant. Oh, he thought, this is going to be so much fun to watch. He didn't feel so much as pity for Jarek, the fool had blundered right into this one... Walker just needed to give them both just the right push.
"Well," Walker said lightly, "perhaps you'd like to spar with the indomitable Swordbreaker?"
Lord Jack gave Walker a sharp look and for just a moment, Walker worried that the young nobleman might warn his friend, but Jarek spoke first, "Certainly! I'm always willing to learn... and hopefully teach a bit too." He already wore a set of chain mail and Walker wasn't surprised to see that he had brought his helmet.
Aerion spoke, his voice ominously low, "This isn't fancy court dueling, Lord Jarek. This is real fighting. You might want to reconsider." No one in earshot could miss the bite in his voice and Jarek flushed as he realized how he had been insulted.
His smile went away and he answered, "I've fought for my own life before, Captain." Walker had to hand it to him, Jarek didn't look to be the type to back down. More the pity, since Walker would put money on Aerion, especially as worked up as he had become.
Still, it wouldn't hurt to put Aerion's mind in the right place, so that he finished the fight quickly. Walker put his hand on Aerion's shoulder and spoke in a low voice that only he could hear, "Remember, Aerion, he's supposed to be getting married soon, you don't want to mess up his pretty face."
Aerion shot him an angry look, his single blue eye practically blazed. His jaw clenched and his jaw muscles stood out. Walker took an involuntary step back and felt a worm of fear squirm in his stomach. For just a moment he wondered if he had pushed his friend too hard. He didn't want him to kill Jarek, after all.
"There are practice blades there," Aerion said, his voice frighteningly calm as he nodded at the weapon rack nearby.
Jarek didn't seem to realize just how dangerous this had become. Walker watched him as he selected and then replaced several of the weighted practice blades before he settled on one. He took up a wooden shield and came forward, crossing over into the ring even as Walker stepped back out of the way. The crowd had grown and Walker realized that news would quickly spread. Already he could see curious onlookers at the windows of the keep and others coming through the outer gate of the courtyard. This was all growing out of control, Walker realized.
Jarek and Aerion squared off, Jarek with a slight, friendly smile on his face and Aerion's expression wooden under his full-face helm.
"Ready?" Aerion asked, his voice still an ominous low tone.
Jarek gave him a nod and before Walker even realized it, his friend burst into motion. There was no hesitation, he held nothing back. It was like when he had fought Grel the Hound, Walker realized.
Jarek barely blocked the first attack with his shield. The sharp crack of Aerion's practice blade on his shield echoed in the courtyard and all the watchers went still. Walker felt his stomach sink as everyone caught some of the tension. They didn't know why, but they could tell that Aerion held nothing back.
Jarek stumbled back a b
it, clearly surprised by Aerion's strength and speed. Before he could regain his composure, Aerion struck again and then a third time. Each time, Jarek managed to get his shield up in time, but each strike hit with such force that it moved him back several steps.
Walker had never seen Aerion spar like this, with a total disregard for his opponent's safety, using his full strength. As Jarek stumbled back from the third hit, Aerion kicked out, catching Jarek in the chest. The nobleman fell back and landed flat on his back, his sword tumbling from his fingers as he fought for breath.
For just a moment, Walker thought that Aerion might well continue his attacks, but instead his friend turned away.
Four blows in two seconds, Walker thought, ancestors... he's more dangerous than I thought.
Jarek sat up and coughed, fighting for breath, and Walker gave a slight sigh of relief, then. It was over, nothing hurt but Jarek's pride. Walker stepped forward to clap Aerion on the shoulder, "Well, since we were finished anyway, let's --”
"I'm not finished with the lesson, Swordbreaker," Jarek ground out from behind them. Damn it, Walker thought.
He spun to see that Jarek had stood, practice sword in hand. As Walker watched, the nobleman tightened the straps on his shield and shrugged his shoulders as if to limber up. There was an angry set to his face, one part rage at the embarrassment, but the rest irritation at being so easily beaten. The determined set to his shoulders as he advanced almost made Walker feel bad about it all.
Then again, Walker thought, he's the idiot who is standing between Aerion and the woman he loves. It wasn't hard for him to quash the pity he felt. He did hope Aerion didn't kill the nobleman, but that was about all the concern he could spare, and that mostly from concern for his own friend's wellbeing.
Jarek advanced and Aerion came to meet him. This time, Jarek led with an attack. He swung his practice blade with surprising strength and it smacked off of Aerion's shield with enough force that no one would believe he had held back. Jarek punched forward with his shield and then attacked again with his sword in a flurry of attacks. Aerion, though, just waded into the blows. Walker winced as his friend let two blows through to his armor.
Yet the hits didn't even seem to slow Aerion, and the younger man went on the attack without hesitation. Walker stopped trying to even absorb the individual moves, it was clear that both men were fighting with everything they had. Jarek fought with skill and determination, matching Aerion strike for strike, right up until they crossed blades, their practice swords crossed between them as they strained at each other.
“What is going on?” A sharp, clear voice echoed through the courtyard.
Walker spun, shocked to see Lady Katarina, her armsman, and a small group of noblemen, among them Lord Joris and Lord Theodore. Oh, he thought, well, this just went from fun to trouble. Walker eased back into the crowd a bit, careful not to draw attention. He hadn't meant for it to get this far out of hand.
A glance at Aerion and Jarek showed the two men still locked together, though their gazes had gone to Katarina and something besides animal anger had begun to appear on their faces. Too focused, Walker thought with some resignation, Aerion always gets a little too focused on what he's doing, good thing I'm there to watch his back.
Aerion broke away from Jarek and he gave a low bow, “My Lady, my apologies. I was just...”
Jarek interrupted, “Young Captain Swordbreaker gave me the opportunity to spar with him, since I'll be joining his Company.” Walker's eyebrows went up at that. The young nobleman could have accused Aerion of attacking him and with how violently they had fought, few would argue. Instead, he had glossed things over.
From the expression of Lady Katarina, he hadn't exactly done a stand up job. Then again, both men were drenched in sweat, despite the chill air. Jarek had a small cut above his eye, just enough to leave a trail of blood down the side of his face. Aerion, despite his full face helm, had a bruise along his jaw that had already darkened.
In a voice meant to carry, Earl Joris spoke to his elder son, “See what comes of allowing commoners to think they are a nobleman's equal? Next they'll be trying to rut with our women.”
Walker saw Katarina's face blanch and then her expression turned hard. “Well,” she said with a look between Aerion and Lord Jarek. “Since Ghost Company clearly has energy to spare, you'll march out on your next patrol today.”
Walker winced at that. They were supposed to have another week of rest, mostly because the spirits had warned of another storm coming in from the north. He didn't relish the thought of spending a night in the open in one of the highland storms.
Aerion simply stood a little straighter, “Yes, my Lady, we'll make preparations to leave immediately.” Walker understood why she had given those orders. Ghost Company's cold weather draw had arrived earlier that morning, so what would be a lethal proposition was now merely dangerous and uncomfortable. A proper punishment for making her look the fool in front of the noblemen. She probably sent Jarek down here to give him some experience and to serve as a positive example, Walker thought idly. It was a good idea, in his opinion, though he doubted that most noblemen had the brains to take it that way. Now instead it would be an example of what happened if people didn't get along.
Katarina didn't respond, she just turned away and her group of advisers followed her, all but Aerion's mother, Eleanor. The short, blonde-haired archer's gaze swept the crowd and zeroed in on Walker. He felt his scalp prickle as she met his gaze and arched an eyebrow.
Viper spit, he thought, she knows I put them up to it. Of anyone here in Katarina's forces, she was the one he thought of as the most dangerous. Not only was she a devious woman, but a frighteningly good shot with any bow... and she carried a runic bow, the like of which Walker had not even heard stories about. Walker doubted that even his father would feel comfortable to have her as an enemy... and she had proven extremely protective of her son's well-being.
Walker gave a slight shrug and a sheepish smile. It had all got out of hand, he hadn't meant for it to go as far as it had.
Eleanor just gave him a slight nod, as if to say she would keep an eye on him in the future. Walker felt a bit of sweat bead on his brow as she turned away. The last thing he wanted was a set of eyes on him, to ask questions that didn't have a good answer.
At least we'll be headed on patrol, where even her gaze can't see me, he thought. That was all to the better, it meant he could do what he wanted without interference.
***
Chapter III
Grand Duke Christoffer Tarken
Boirton, Grand Duchy of Boir
23rd of Ravin, Cycle 1000 Post Sundering
Christoffer paused at a merchant stall as he recognized the man at the back of the stall. “Merchant Schmidt, I'm surprised to see you here.”
The man's eyes widened and he knelt immediately, “Your Grace,” he said, “I'm sorry, I didn't see you there. If this is about the trade my boys and I do...”
Christoffer remembered, then, that Schmidt was something of a smuggler. He picked up goods from smaller ports around the Boir Sea to avoid customs agents and the taxes and fees for import. He also does trade with the Wold of the Eastwood, he thought, which is why I am somewhat indebted to him.
“No, Schmidt,” Christoffer said, “I was just walking the market to take note of how things fare for my people.” He gestured at the two men to rise and as they did, he saw the family resemblance between them. “Is this one of your sons?” Christoffer asked.
Schmidt nodded nervously, “My youngest, he hasn't sea legs, so he runs our stall here.”
“With the trade you do, I'm a bit surprised you don't have a shop,” Christoffer said lightly.
Merchant Schmidt flushed, “We haven't the money. Merchant's guild requires a permit and property is expensive in the merchant quarter. We do good business here in the stall, though.”
Christoffer cocked his head, it was the first he had heard of such things. He had made some investments with a few me
rchant captains, men doing voyages to the south or to Aoriel, but he could admit he knew little about the internal processes of the Merchant's Guild. “They require permits of their members?”
He didn't miss the scowl on Schmidt's son's face. “That's just the thing, yer Lordship,” the younger man said. “We aren't members of the Merchant's Guild. My grandfather used to work for a merchant, but he saved up and bought his own ship, with a loan from a bank. Merchants guild doesn't like the competition, they say we can either work for one of their houses or not at all.”
Christoffer looked at Schmidt, who looked down, “It's not as bad as all of that, your Grace, but they do make it a bit hard on those of us that don't do business their way.”
“I will look into this,” Christoffer said with narrowed eyes. Trade was the lifeblood of his duchy, he knew, and if the Merchant's Guild had begun to stifle trade... well, then they might be a problem he would need to deal with.
“We don't want any trouble,” Schmidt said quickly.
“You won't have any,” Christoffer held up a hand to interrupt him. “I am indebted to you, shipmaster, the note you delivered told of my daughter's survival. Without you to deliver it, I would have thought her dead.”
Schmidt's eyes widened at that, “My Lord, we were just doing what any decent man would do...”
“Trust me, Merchant Schmidt, there are fewer of those than I would like,” Christoffer said. “If you or your family ever need any service, let me know of it.”
Schmidt bowed his head clearly shocked by such an offer. Christoffer turned away and gave his two armsmen a nod as they stepped out of the booth. The Flohbeutel Market was one of the smaller of the city markets, but it was one that did the most trade, from what Christoffer knew. While the stock market did trade in livestock and the Pachter Market was where farmers brought their produce for sale, Handel Market was where trade goods were exchanged. Much of what could be found in Flohbeutel Market, in Christoffer's opinion, was junk. Lamps from the Duchy of Masov, exotic oils and perfumes from Vendakar, and wines and cloth from Marovingia. Much of it was finished goods, but most of it was also the cheapest quality of items. Schmidt's stall had at least had some valuable goods, most of the traders in the booths sold little more than junk, the kind of thing that sailors and Marines would pick up dockside in a port.