A Crown Of Blades(ARTK, Book 3)

Chapter 21-22

Anor 18th,3330 A.G

  Very early in the morning, they finally got that moment alone they'd been wishing for. Hernaise had thought he could put some things off a day or two-  deciding what to do with the Fulke advisors( as they hadn't done much to offend him, the best he could come up with was exile) and deciding what to do with certain important matters( apparently when they'd died, they were in the middle of a trade deal with Bera and their diplomat had been hiding in his chambers.), but he also hadn't believed exercising one's mind could be that exhausting.

  The diplomat wanted to argue and argue, corner him into a deal that were beneficial only to Bera- an insulting amount of tea boxes an fabrics for an absurd amount of baoabob wood, but Hernaise had dealt with him.

  "I don't know what in the hells has happened here and I have no intention of staying long enough to find out, but you are the new lord yes?" The diplomat had raised an eyebrow like it weren't a rhetoric question, mocking him. "A word of advice, then: Do not make enemies of your dead enemy's allies. Would be a real shame if your first years were spent in a trade war."

  Hernaise had smiled and stepped closer to the diplomat. He were far shorter and thinner, a clear scholar over warrior. "And let me offer you some advice: You hold no authority anywhere but Bera. In this place...... in this place I could order my servants to paint the entire great hall with your blood, over a period of months of course so your body has time to make more without dying- simply because I feel like it. So you will go back to your lord, and you will tell him that the offer is forty trees for a two hundred boxes of tea and fifty of silk fabrics. You will tell him to consider the extra boxes a gift to me, a symbol of his alliance with the new lord of Muris."

  With that he'd left the diplomat alone, and he were told the man had left almost immediately. Only time would tell if he were as intelligent as he looked.

  He took a moment to look around Hammond and Jeanette's chambers, Christine and Roese just behind him. They hadn't discussed sleeping arrangements yet, but he imagined those things would fall into place. Christine were just as exhausted as he, having dealt with duties of her own- but because of how severe her injuries from the torture had been Roese were ordered to do nothing but rest for a few weeks. Afterwards, when there were three people to handle things- it would get easier.

  Hammond's bed wasn't meant for three people, but they could do. The frame were of stained baobab wood( does baobab wood accept stains???) , the bed a thicker one than he were used to- but what captured his attention most were the amount of books.

  Of course they'd had those in the swamp, collections built up by families over multiple decades ( they would take very good care of them, copy them down when the conditions of the swamp began to take their toll)- but nowhere near this many.

  There were an entire wall dedicated to just a bookshelf, and it were crammed full. There were a few stacks on the floors, some as high as his knees.

  "What are you staring at?" Roese asked. Of course- the both of them had grown up thinking this was normal.

  "Nothing." He turned around and smiled. "Do you-"

  "Oh fuck me!" Christine mumbled, startling them both. "I forgot to go see my daughter. I can only imagine how confused she must be. I wonder if anyone's told her yet-"

  "I'm sure she'll be fine." Hernaise grabbed Christine's hands, trying to reassure her. "Children are very resilient, and she may still be too young to understand. When I was a child there was a girl in the village who's parents both caught something from bug bites and were dead within the day. She went about her week like nothing happened. Hunted and foraged and fed herself, even."