Chapter XVII #4
“These are the terms for a new alliance between your castle and my cloister.” It was not precisely steel that the Priest heard ringing in Dolenza’s voice, but strength unbending.
He knew there would be no haggling over what she offered.
Either her terms would be accepted, or they would walk away from this table with things remaining as they always had between Raea’s house and the Inver dynasty.
Nothing lost by Dolenza, but no progress made.
It was only Orden who stood to lose here, and the Priest shifted restlessly, knowing his brother would divine that and be pricked by it.
“Firstly, it is my understanding that the alliance with Gileta and Song Royale, which Your Majesty depends upon to fuel your war in Vesper, has reached an end. It is not my desire to see Honorians suffer and die needlessly across the sea. Though we enrich the Solis Plains with the incaendium produced by this cloister, the plains are fertile even without it. I would be willing to provide your clan with fully half of our incaendium over the period of five years, in order to ease a slow withdrawal of our people from Vesper without allowing for a wholesale slaughter of Honorians. You needn’t declare Vesper a victor in the war, or surrender in any way.
You must simply remove all Honorians from Vesperin soil in a measured and timely fashion.
This would be the cost of incaendium provided to you by Bright Raea. ”
The Priest shifted, pulse loud in his ears. Dolenza must have been considering this for a very long time, she spoke so decisively and laid out such ambitious terms.
“Secondly,” the Matria went on, relentless in her demands, “the Inver coffers are strained near to breaking by their various conflicts. I am prepared to offer a tithe given free and clear, of a tenth of every harvest the Solis Plains produces, to be honored for your lifetime and the lifetime of your son. That will go far toward improving your clan’s fortunes—while several of you are wealthy, most eke out a scant existence as petty lordlings on Honoria’s least abundant lands, and I cannot imagine the tax revenue from your own people is especially bountiful.
A tithe from Raea’s house would enrich the crown, and ease some of the strain upon those whose lands and incomes support it.
In exchange for this tithe, we require an assurance sworn before our own goddess and the Inver gods, that Honoria will not make war with Caervallion again. ”
It was then, at the worst possible moment, that Afon spoke from the far end of the table, near the wide entryway to the refectory. He must have come in while Dolenza laid out her requirements, and the Priest felt his shoulders tense at the sound of the Caervallin king’s grating voice.
“Very good, Matria. This is quite the muzzle you’ve created for your Inver cur. I should very much like to see him put his head into it willingly, and smother on its confines.”
To her credit, Dolenza brooked no interruption or interference.
“This is an Honorian matter and does not concern Caervallion. Soria Aurelia, please escort our guest to the harbor, and show him the fishing fleet. Bring Gileta’s and Corrin’s representatives with you as well; we’ve no need for outside company at present. ”
Even that display of authority would undoubtedly irk Orden.
“That is nearly all,” the Matria said, returning her attention to the table and the matter at hand as Soria Aurelia genially solicited Afon’s company, and their steps retreated.
“Our last offer is a gift, with nothing required in exchange. There is an estate house twenty miles south of here, with five hundred acres of choice vineyards in its keeping. Traditionally, it has always been passed from one Matria to the next, to afford them a discretionary income throughout their service and fund a retirement afterward. I have deeded it over to Justus Inver, as a naming present for our future king.”
There was a rustle of parchment as the document passed between her and Orden. The Priest held his breath—whatever unbearable tensions he’d felt in his mountain sanctuary, surrounded by ghosts, it was nothing to what he experienced now, waiting for Orden’s response to the sun’s living mouthpiece.
When the king spoke, it was with the easy lack of care he would have shown in remarking on the weather.
“A worthy gift,” Orden said, “and one which we readily receive on our son’s behalf.
As for the rest, it will not surprise you to hear that we find it wholly unacceptable.
Regardless of any lack of accord between us, though, I should very much like to see the extent of Raea’s house, and of her holdings. ”
His easiness faded at the last, replaced by the hunger the Priest had initially heard, and a faint scheming note.
It would sound like no more than interest to those who did not know Orden well, but the Priest had been reared with him.
Orden’s pointed desire for Raea’s cloister could only end with him trying for it in some unexpected fashion.
Just as no one had seen his sudden blazing rise to power coming, so, too, they would not be able to anticipate whatever he had planned for the cloister.
Dolenza, in her wisdom, wished for unity, but Orden only ever wished for authority under the guise of allegiance.
This the Priest knew as well as he knew his own soul.
It would end in bloodshed, he thought to himself with a slight shake of his head. Didn’t it always, when his people were involved?