3. Dimitri
3
DIMITRI
“ D o not promise that which you cannot deliver,” Lord Thaeus scoffed at Dimitri, who stood before him, unperturbed by his lack of faith.
“Quite, quite,” Dimitri replied, nodding at the older elf, who far surpassed him in rank. “I promise nothing. What can be promised in such times? Only more of the same. Fear, rumours, instability. I merely offer an alternative. One where you are rewarded more justly for your endeavours in fair Pelenor’s name.”
Lord Thaeus scoffed. “Harumph! And you think Toroth will take this on his back? I think not!”
Dimitri suppressed a smirk. “I hardly think it, but there is far more at work than what you realise. You are not the sum of these machinations.”
Thaeus raised an eyebrow. “And you are?”
“Nay. All of us are mere parts. And yet, I know what will unfold. It will be the greatest change in our country’s history, and you had better be on the right side of it if you wish to see your House and name preserved.” He fixed Thaeus with an unflinching glare that exuded his conviction of that.
Thaeus swallowed. “S-Surely not,” he stammered. “I mean, you would need an invading army to topple the king.”
“Would we really?” Dimitri asked, though he thought to the goblin forces that Saradon wooed to do exactly that. “Toroth has grown himself a nation of folk—common and high alike—who despise him. Why, he has grown his very own rebellion.”
Thaeus dabbed a dank cloth to his forehead, then tucked the handkerchief away once more. His eyes darted around, as if the very walls had ears, and sweat beaded on his forehead.
The walls did have ears—and they belonged to Dimitrius. “Fear not, Lord Thaeus. You are safe with me.”
“Forgive me if I do not trust the king’s spymaster.” The reply came with the usual injection of hostility and suspicion.
“I suppose I might deserve that. Yet… Did you ever wonder why you never did get arrested, or charged with the embezzlement of taxes from all the landed goods that were never declared in the port at Eyre this last decade?” Dimitri asked casually, picking imaginary specks from his nails. He had waited patiently to play that card.
Thaeus stilled, but Dimitrius saw the flare of his nostrils, the bob of his throat, and the slight widening of his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Of course you don’t,” said Dimitri smoothly, leaning toward him to clap him on the shoulder conspiratorially, winking. “It never happened, did it?”
“Certainly not,” replied Thaeus, even though Dimitri knew it most certainly had. Such a flea-bitten coward . Dimitri truly despised them all, for the court was rotten to the core. Each of them was more self-serving than the last. They cared not for how the realm bled.
Dimitri knew he had Thaeus cornered. All the long years of gathering information, not all of which had been for the king’s benefit, would finally pay dividends. And, one way or another, he would ensure they all received their comeuppance, too, when all was said and done. He needed them to break the wheel, to remake Pelenor to his and Saradon’s visions, but he did not need them afterward. Not in their current form. They, however, did not need to know that.
“Excellent. Then I look forward to working very closely with you, Lord Thaeus.”
“Quite, Lord Ellarian.” Lord Thaeus’s watery eyes followed Dimitri as he strode away.
It marked the end of a long day of plotting, and the last noble Dimitri would blackmail, bribe, or curry favour with… for now. He considered he had collected enough of them for one day. His neck was now over the parapet, especially when he infiltrated the guilds. It would take just one of them to betray him, but he knew they would not. In implicating him, they would also damn themselves to certain death at the king’s hands. He did not know any one of them who would be so brave as to sacrifice themselves for that.
Still, Dimitri’s heart hammered as he strode to the safety of his chambers, and a wave of anxiety rushed through him when four red cloaks turned the corner, walking toward him. He forced himself to stride past the Kingsguard with his usual arrogant grace, glaring at them as he passed, then flicking his attention away as though they were beneath his notice. They did not so much as dare look at him and not one uttered a word. It was only when he returned to the safety of his own warded rooms that he at last let the mask slip and let out a great, shuddering breath of relief.
“Are you quite all right, Dimi?” Emyria asked, her greying brow raised in question.
“I shall live another day perhaps, Emyria,” Dimitri replied. A yawn swallowed his next words.
Emyria tutted and stood on her tiptoes to unfasten his cloak, sweeping it over her arm before she hooked it upon the stand. “Well, dear, sit. I shall bring you a warm drink and your slippers.”
“What would I do without you, Emyria?” Dimitri flashed her a tired, grateful smile and slumped onto his most comfortable couch.
“No doubt get into a lot more trouble,” she said, glaring at him with pursed lips and mock sternness. She had been a mother of sorts to him. Her brown, greying hair was pulled back from her kind face and swirled into braids that bobbed as she worked to pour him a sweet infusion.
“I don’t doubt it. How long have you been here now?” The years blurred into one another, sometimes. How long had it been?
“With you? As well you know, sir. In Tournai, it will be nigh on a hundred years now.”
A hundred years serving the king’s will. Did the time fly or drag? It could not have been a century—and yet in the same breath, it also felt like an eternity. He shuddered at the thought, though he had been there almost as long, albeit in a different way. “I hope I am a better master than the king was.”
“You know the truth of it.” Her voice soured with each clipped word. Neither of them had ever truly spoken about what he had rescued her from, and she did not like to dwell on it. Unlike him, she had just the barest hint of elvish blood in her line, and thus was destined for the lowliest forms of servitude and station in her prolonged life. The gift and the curse of her heritage.
“I’m sorry, Emyria. I did not mean to dredge it up. I suppose I have been wishing for better circumstances for us all.”
“I thank you, Dimitri. I know you will deliver us through these testing times.” She had already thanked him many times over the years for sheltering her, for giving her a comfortable life where she barely had to lift a finger, unlike her former slavery. Deep in thought, he watched her leave.
As much as he orchestrated this for himself, he also did it for the likes of her, too. Nowhere in his new Pelenor would there be bonded servants. It made him feel uncharacteristically noble, momentarily washing away the slime of the court and all its shadows, but the moment quickly passed. First, he had a mire to wade through and a realm to overturn.