Return of the Stormcriers

CHAPTER 49 - WEIGHT OF THE CROWN

"Of course none of them trust you, did you honestly believe that any of them would after you leapfrogged over their stations?" Ostara smirked, whether, at the irritation of her peers or the hatred that Bernoulli inspired, the Steward could not tell. He fought the irritation that rose within him. It had been five days since he had met with the dukes; five days since they had gathered the High Council without him and discussed who knows what. Ostara had reasoned that it would draw undue suspicion if she came to his office the night of the meeting, an opinion with which he had agreed. She had then promptly left the palace for what she claimed to be an urgent family matter and had not returned until earlier that afternoon. He had hardly slept since that day, plagued by terrors and nightmares in his few hours of rest that he had attempted with visions of betrayal and war lurking just behind his lids.  And now she was acting as if it were all some big joke. Bernoulli calmed his sleep-deprived anger and forced his breath to remain deep and even.

  "I did not expect them to trust me," Bernoulli said through gritted teeth. "I just need them to work with me."

  "From what I could gather, the High Council has begrudgingly accepted you in the role of Stewards, and even the Dukes are willing to follow your lead, at least for the time being," Ostara relayed smoothly. "Though I cannot tell if that is merely so they can place the blame squarely upon your shoulders if the war goes poorly."

  Bernoulli's heart raced faster at her words with worry at what they would do to him if his plans proved disastrous. He was not an idiot, he knew that they only backed him so that they could use him as a pawn and a scapegoat, but he did not mean to give back a single ounce of power that they had  mistakenly granted him in their game of pawns. Anger grew in his chest,

  "Well I do not plan to fail, do I?" he said aloud, forcing himself to return the young councilwoman's smirk, setting his face in a neutrally confident expression; hiding his anger, fear, and uncertainty behind a mask as he had always done.

  "I would not be aiding you if you did," Ostara replied smoothly. "Though I do appreciate hearing you reiterate your commitment to success aloud."

  Bernoulli studied her carefully, wary of her tone. No one was ever this willing to engage in conversation with him, yet she had seemed nothing if not supportive in their meetings. He cringed inwardly in mistrust, but he held hope that she was truly an ally that he could depend upon, "The council does not suspect that you are aiding me?"

She let out a bright peel of laughter, her startlingly silver eyes twinkling with mirth, "They do not suspect a thing. Those old bags would never believe that the granddaughter of Adolophas Elsner would ever work with Leonardo Bernoulli." Bernoulli smiled, despite his reservations, he could not help himself in the face of her charm and wit.

  "Now for the substance of the meeting," Ostara continued before the Steward could speak. "The dukes have returned to their provincial capitals to gather their forces. They have agreed with the council to work in conjunction with the Grand Army of Verden and the Royal Navy. They have spoken with the leadership of the two branches, yes without consulting you first, and told them to begin their preparations. They believe that with the resistance already at the gates of Shaleport it would not seem suspicious for the full military might of Verden to begin to assemble."

Bernoulli felt his teeth grind together as he clenched his jaw in fury, his fists balled at his sides and he fought the urge to punch the fine wooden surface of the High King's royal desk. How dare they undermine his authority by speaking with the military without him? He could have them all hanged for treason; he should have them hanged for treason. Rage bubbled in his throat and burned in every fiber of his being. They had overstepped their bounds and betrayed the sacred laws of Verden that they had sworn oaths to uphold when they had taken their seats upon the revered body. They would burn for this; he would absolve their authority the moment he was established as High King. He fought to restrain his speech as prophecies of revenge threatened to spew from his lips.