It took a fortnight for the occupied Sir Sarin to respond to Lucan’s summons. During that fortnight, word reached them at last. A battle had indeed broken out near Eldham. Prince Oswin’s army, with Duke Elmere’s support, had clashed against Prince Esmond’s northern alliance with the support of Lord Marquel.
The outcome was rather surprising. The northern alliance, under the third prince’s command, was victorious, though by a slim margin. The battle took a heavy toll on both sides, and it was said that the battlefield had been so ripe with corpses that one couldn’t find ground to step on. Considering the losses already suffered in the ill-advised venture into the Hollow Swamp, Lucan expected no further clashes between them for at least a year. Both sides would be licking their wounds for a time. But for now, the third prince would be the one in command of Eldham’s hinterlands. It remained to be seen whether the royal steward would surrender the city to him. Even with the Royal Guard guarding its gates, such a grand city couldn’t survive without supply lines for long. The steward would eventually have to yield it to someone.
Sir Sarin arrived soon after word did, and Lucan received him in his study. Venn was told to wait outside, with only Thomas and Cordell in attendance.
The knight gave a proper bow upon his entry. “Lord Lucan.”
“Sir Sarin,” Lucan said. “I hope House Arden’s affairs go well.”
“They do, your lordship.”
Lucan raised a brow. “This is the second time you’ve come, and yet you haven’t brought Ren. Considering this whole affair regards his inheritance, I would have expected the young heir to be in presence.”
Sir Sarin shook his head apologetically. “Forgive me, your lordship. For his safety, and until the pretender is dead, Lord Ren is not to leave The Needles.”
“A lord trapped in his own castle?” Lucan cocked his head. “One might come to believe that his power is being usurped, Sir Sarin.”
“Lord Zesh,” Sir Sarin said, his tone firm. “My loyalty to the late Lord Arden, and Ren after him, is absolute. Should I lose my life in this coming conflict, I would die happy if only I were to be assured of Ren’s ascension to his grandfather’s seat.”
Lucan only gave him a small nod. He did not doubt Sir Sarin’s loyalty to the Ardens. Yet, one had to be thoughtful at times. It was not unheard of for stewards and sometimes subordinate knights to usurp their lord’s power if a young heir was commanding the seat. There were many stories in the Elder Lands of insidious regents, consorts, and aides taking the power of spineless lords, which would eventually lead to disaster for said house unless someone powerful emerged to rally it again.
“Tell me, my friend,” Lucan said, “would House Arden have any entanglements with Her Highness, Anushka Baroun?”
Sir Sarin frowned, shaking his head. “We have never had any dealings or grievances with Her Highness. Why do you ask, your lordship?”
Lucan sighed. It was too late to hide this matter from him, and it would also be foolish to be ambiguous with his allies at this time. “She seems to have taken an interest in your house.” He gave the knight a meaningful look. “A keen interest.”
The knight’s frown deepened. “Why would that be?”
“Well, if we are to prepare for the worst,” Lucan said, “we ought to assume that she is in league with your pretender.”
Sir Sarin took a breath, seemingly disturbed, but Lucan caught him before his mind drove him to despair.
“You ought to know, Her Highness has little power with her brothers, though she does have her own retainers.”
The knight let out a sigh of relief. “If there is no army at her back, then…”
“Indeed,” Lucan said. “She has little power here, however, she does have competent servants. The man my men-at-arms warned you about was spying on her behalf, counting your men, scrutinizing your castle. You ought to be vigilant, and not only at the border.”
Sir Sarin nodded gravely. “I shall be.”
Lucan allowed them a reprieve of silence, glancing at his aides. Both had been quiet so far, and there was little they could add, but they needed to know what was transpiring if they were to prepare properly.
“Has there been any movement at the border?”
Sir Sarin shook his head. “None, your lordship.”
“And so we are blind to our enemies,” Lucan said, wondering if he should send scouts of his own.
Again, the knight shook his head. “Not quite.”
Lucan narrowed his eyes. “Speak, Sir.”
“In his wisdom, the late Lord Arden cultivated a few agents in The Shattered Kingdom. They bring us word when they can.”
“And you only tell me of this now?” Lucan asked sharply.
Sir Sarin raised a placating hand. “Any word that they would deliver us, we would deliver you, your lordship. Knowing of their presence, however, was of little use to you.”
Lucan snorted and shook his head. “And what have these spies apprised you of so far?”
“The pretender is yet to march. He seeks support from the nobles and warlords of The Shattered Kingdom,” Sir Sarin said. “Slowly but surely, he is finding it, but we still have time, Lord Lucan.”
“Then we will use all the time we have to prepare,” Lucan said. “Tell me of this pretender. All I know is that he’s a distant relation to the late lord.”
“Aye.” Sir Sarin nodded slowly, as though delaying his next words. “The pretender…is quite something.” The knight paused, taking a breath. “He was the nephew of the late Lord Arden.”
Lucan’s eyes widened. His nephew? That made his claim a real one, perhaps even a strong one. “Lord Arden never told me of this.”
Sir Sarin gave him a wry smile and nodded. “It’s a thorny matter, you see. When he was still a young man, the pretender, Rodrick, was sent by the House to Liberferia to establish a mercenary company, which is not uncommon, as your lordship certainly knows.”
Lucan nodded. Often, when there were concerns about succession in a noble house, they would send those who were not meant to inherit into an elevated form of exile. Either they would be given distant, barren holdings, sworn into service as knights under a distant but friendly lord, or provided the coin and training necessary to establish a mercenary company from which they may earn a proper living for their station.
In the last case, one would be sent to the farthest lands, of course. Often, Barwalian and Pontian nobles would send such sons to Liberferia, where the locals were often in conflict with The Vincemare, and mercenary companies were sought after. Rodrick Arden had been such a noble, it seemed.
“Once Lord Arden’s two sons died, Rodrick returned,” Sir Sarin continued. Lucan knew that the late lord had had two sons and a daughter. All had passed, as though a curse had struck their family. “He demanded what he claimed to be his birthright. To become heir to The Needles.” The knight shook his head. “Lord Arden was furious. They quarreled for ten days and ten nights, and in the end, it nearly came to blows. Ren was but a babe at the time. Rodrick, hoping to gain the upper hand, attempted to snatch the boy in the night.”
Lucan leaned back into his seat. He’d known none of this. All he knew was that Lord Arden’s sons had died of a disease that was prevalent in their family. Many years later, his daughter and her husband had died in a riding mishap. Their horses had somehow gotten entangled on a leisure ride, and they hadn’t survived the misfortune, which broke Lord Arden’s heart.
“Rodrick was caught in the act,” Sir Sarin continued. “He managed to flee, but Lord Arden stripped him of the family name.”
“I imagined it wasn’t long before he sprouted up in the Shattered Kingdom after that,” Lucan said.
“Indeed,” Sir Sarin said. “He was soon leading a mercenary band there, then he even found an opportunity to become a minor warlord, under a supposed noble of the old kingdom.” The knight snorted. “Cutthroats and brigands, the lot of them.”
Lucan gave him a small nod. It was a much better account of the present order of things than any he’d been given before. While the late Lord Arden had been a good friend to him, he hadn’t been forthcoming about this whole affair, perhaps out of shame instead of malice, but still, ignorance could be dangerous.
After giving Sir Sarin his leave, the knight left to rest in a guest chamber while Lucan asked his aides to share their thoughts on the matter, and their responses were nothing surprising.
“We must tread with caution and act only when prepared,” Thomas said. “We ought to know more. Who are Rodrick’s allies in the Shattered Kingdom? Who is this supposed noble? How many men do they command?”
Lucan agreed. He intended to wring out that knowledge from Sir Sarin if he had it.
“Only with sufficient strength can we stand against whatever comes,” Cordell said.
Once the matter of strength was mentioned, Lucan asked, “How goes the recruitment?”
“We have a dozen more in the company’s ranks, my lord,” Cordell said. “It is gaining more headway, and soon, I am certain we will have a full company.”
Lucan nodded. Hay harvest was approaching. It would be better if the company was whole before then, since they would have a chance to train the men for some time before the harvest.
Since Cordell had brought forward the latest in his affairs, Thomas naturally did too. “The Merchant House has approved the proposed tolls for passage and docks.”
Lucan had intentionally given the Merchant House leeway to accept or refuse tolls, taxes, and tariffs that merchants would suffer in his territory. It was part of his plan to make the merchants feel safe in Silvergate. And as they did, not only would trade flow more vigorously, but many merchants would buy and rent estates in the growing town.
The wealth that came and would come with this trust was worth the sacrifice. Lucan hadn’t truly sacrificed his authority. He’d only given the merchants a layer of safety that they could probe. Should he begin to bar the Merchant House from such decisions, the merchants would know to be more cautious around his estate, just as they were cautious elsewhere. With such a layer of assurance, they were willing to stake more in Silvergate.
“There is a matter of concern, however,” Thomas said, standing on a pause, which was uncommon for the straightforward steward.
“What is it?”
“It’s your lawfather.”