resist.
“Fuck. How long does this blasted Kensgold last?”
“Just a single night,” said Gerand.
He could already see the fear spreading in Edwin’s eyes. One night was enough to assassinate a king. One night was enough to supplant the hierarchy with the rule of coin and trade.
“We must stop them,” Edwin said. He clutched his gold sword tight, as if he were to draw it and strike some unseen enemy.
“There’s no way we can,” Gerand said, feigning defeat.
“There is. Ban the mercenaries from our city. Get rid of them. They can’t pass through our walls if we don’t let them.”
Gerand nearly choked. He had been hoping Edwin would call for a sharp curtailing of the Trifect’s power. A massive increase in taxes, plus a crackdown on some of their more illegal activities, would have done wonders to subdue the Trifect’s smug flaunting of power. Banning all mercenaries, however, was about as far from what he wanted as the Abyss was to the Golden Eternity.
“Your majesty, you can’t,” Gerand said. At the king’s frown, the advisor corrected himself. “You shouldn’t, I mean, not unless you want the thief guilds to thoroughly destroy the Trifect. Without their mercenaries they are vulnerable. Their house guards do well to protect their estates, but everything else, from their warehouses to their trade caravans, is protected by men bought by their coin.”
“Why should I give a rat’s ass about their coin?” Edwin shouted. He turned and struck the mirror with his sword, pleased at how it shattered. “I could tax every shred of wealth from their hide if I wanted to. If they’re so frightened of our city’s vermin, then let them flee to one of their hundred different holds strewn throughout Dezrel.”
There was only one card left to play, a trump card with a dangerous cost attached to it.
“If you do that, my king, then you will be signing your own death warrant,” Gerand said.
The king grew shockingly quiet. He sheathed his sword and stared at his advisor with crossed arms.
“How so?” he asked, his voice just above a whisper.
“Because Thren Felhorn thinks you attempted to kill his son. He will neither forgive, nor forget. Once the Trifect is dealt with, he will turn his focus on you.”
“He won’t dare strike at a king,” Edwin said.
“He will,” Gerand said. “He has before.”
The king’s eyes widened with understanding.
“My father…”
“There is a reason you became king so young, your majesty. Thren needed instability in the castle to set up his war against the Trifect. You were close enough in age to retain rule, yet young enough to not wield full power for several years. Your mother died from poison, your father a slit throat.”
Edwin’s hands trembled.
“Why did you not tell me this?” he asked.
“Because I didn’t want you to do something that might cost you your life. Your majesty.”
The king pointed a shaking finger at Gerand, the tip waving in front of his nose.
“You damn, manipulative fool,” he nearly shouted. “You told me Robert would just teach the boy, and while he did he’d inform us of whatever he might overhear. How the abyss did that turn into an attempt on the boy’s life?”
Gerand remained silent. An errant word now might cost him his life. No doubt the guards stationed on the other side of the bedchamber doors were already drawing their blades.
“You will answer me,” Edwin ordered.
“Yes, your majesty,” Gerand said, knowing his fate was sealed. “I ordered his son, Aaron, to be captured. We failed. I thought with him as a hostage, we might force an end to the squabbles between the Trifect and the guilds.”
The king struck him with the back of his hand. Gerand fell to one knee, his head throbbing from where the king’s many rings had left deep imprints on his skin. The scar on his face ached, and when he touched it, he felt warm blood on his fingers.
“This needs to be handled, immediately,” King Vaelor said. “I can bear the Trifect, their wealth and their arrogance. Castle walls and guards protect me from their mercenaries. But I will not have some sewer vermin kill me over your mistake, especially that heartless bastard, Felhorn. We know their plans for the Kensgold. Turn that against them.”
“Yes, your majesty,” Gerand said.
“Oh, and if you should fail…”
Gerand stopped and turned around, his hand still against the door.
“If I fail, I will willingly go to Thren, kneel at his feet, and announce my guilt in the attempt against his son.”
The king beamed as if he couldn’t