Side Story 01
Upon bidding his sister good day, Albert Bellier resumed his walk through the halls of the ducal palace, his family's palace. He kept an unhurried pace, having learned early that the quickest way to project authority was to never look like you were in a hurry, even when you very much were.
"The wine," Albert asked.
"Secured," said Daniel, his assistant, walking half a step behind with a leather ledger tucked under one arm. "Every merchant of note in the city contributed their reserves. Gleefully, I might add."
"Gleefully?"
"Yes."
"Sounds to me like they're just waiting to be paid."
"On that front, impatiently," Daniel added. "The gleefulness applied mainly to the handing over. The waiting seems to have introduced a somewhat different emotion."
"Hmph. What about the musicians?"
"Contracted. I made sure they'd be the finest in the city."
Albert glanced sidelong at him. "Will it be enough, though? That's what keeps me up at night."
Daniel opened his mouth, then closed it. "That's a hard question to answer, my lord. Particularly without knowing how long this gathering is expected to run."
"It'll run for as long as it's required," Albert said. "Starting from today."
The grimace that crossed Daniel's face was involuntary and brief. Albert caught it anyway.
"Sorry, my lord."
"Don't be." Albert waved it off without breaking stride.
"I want to pull that exact same face every time I think about our expenses.
" Halfway down the corridor he stopped, pausing before a painting, one of many lining this particular hall, portraits of the Bellier line arranged in chronological order, serving as both family history and architectural intimidation, depending on who happened to be walking beneath them.
The painting showed a five-horned goat creature the size of half a chamber, in the process of receiving a sword through its eye from a man who looked entirely too composed about the whole situation.
The man in the painting needed no introduction, but Albert offered one anyway.
"Sir Albert," he said. "My namesake. The man everything began with.
" He studied the painting that had watched him grow from a boy into a man.
"A level thirty knight, some say. Others argue he was entirely unawakened, which, if true, would make the hero who granted him this fortress look like a lunatic.
Regardless, those who believe he was a common man think this portrait leans less on physical strength and more on artistic license, meant to illustrate a stubbornness that bordered on the theological.
Seen that way, the painting is fair enough. "
Albert tilted his head. "Personally, I've always found the second version more compelling.
Being a powerful, awakened being is impressive, sure, but anyone with enough luck can manage that.
Accomplishing what he did as a powerless, ordinary man is far more remarkable.
I suppose that's why I find his legacy more admirable than the man himself. "
The next painting was less dramatic but considerably more regal. This ancestor of Albert's was less a warrior and more an architect. He wasn't remembered for slaying beasts, but for deciding that something permanent should rise from the soil his predecessor had bled for.
"Louis Bellier," Albert said. "The man who laid the first stone of this city's great wall.
He looked at a fortress trapped in an unwinnable war and decided to build something that would make him and his father immortal instead.
" He turned from the canvas. "Everything this family carries, every title, every acre, it all starts here. Not with the sword, but with a vision."
"You admire him a great deal, my lord."
"I really do," Albert said plainly. He moved on, and when he spoke again the warmth in his voice had dropped by a noticeable degree.
"My family's history began with a hero," he said, pausing at the tall window at the end of the corridor to look out over the city's rooftops. "One who, regardless of whether my ancestor turns out to have been awakened or not, comes across as quite the prick."
Daniel kept his expression carefully neutral. "My lord?"
"Sending a man to hold an impossible position sounds like a total prick move to me," Albert said, turning from the window. "It carries the exact same energy as announcing you plan to visit without giving a date. Charming people, these heroes."
"My lord, do you think it's possible he's coming for a different reason than the one you're assuming?"
"Can you picture a better one?" he said, resuming his walk, descending a staircase now.
Daniel shook his head.
"The answer's obvious. A dying duke and two sons, Daniel.
What else could it be? Our esteemed guest is a hero known to back a prince who badly needs support.
He isn't here to pay his respects to my father.
He's here scouting, sizing up my brother and me, deciding which of us his prince should back for the succession. "
Daniel absorbed that, then said, "That would be good news for you, my lord."
Albert made a sound that wasn't quite a laugh. "It would be. Assuming our guest doesn't make the instinctive, deeply unhelpful decision to go to Bertrand first."
Daniel said nothing to that. He didn't need to.
Both of them understood the problem well enough.
Bertrand, Albert's elder brother, was the first son, heir by default, and any representative of the first prince would spot that obvious connection before noticing any of the more relevant ones.
Obvious connections were the enemy of correct conclusions, and correct conclusions were exactly what Albert needed this hero to reach.
"Daniel, I need you to arrange something for me."
"My lord."
"This particular hero has a well-documented appreciation for the company of women. Historical record, even. Talk to the city's establishments. Tell them to send their finest, actually, never mind, tell them to send all their girls."
"All of them?"
"Yes."
"And you intend to retain them for as long as our guest remains in the city?"
Albert frowned at that, which prompted Daniel to add, "Understood, sir. I'll see to it immediately. But my lord," he paused, hesitating, "the budget. Between the wine, the musicians, the fruit—"
"Remind me, were the fruits secured?"
"They were, my lord. Though on that subject, I must confess to taking a certain liberty."
"What liberty?"
"You're aware," Daniel said, "that your brother, anticipating the hero's arrival, deployed the ducal guard throughout the city, with special instructions to be thorough at the gates.
Under his most zealous men, every manifest, every seal, every document is now being inspected with the kind of dedication usually reserved for actual emergencies. "
"I'm aware. I thought, and still think, it's a waste of money and a reliable way to anger every merchant in the city."
"Speaking of which, my lord, several merchants have found themselves with requisitioned wares and a cell to reconsider their paperwork in.
However." Here the hesitation shifted into something else entirely, something on Daniel's face that came as close to pride as his features seemed capable of showing.
"Since yesterday, I've quietly involved myself in resolving a number of those cases.
I managed to arrange for a portion of the confiscated goods to offset what would otherwise have come straight out of our budget for the celebration. "
Albert looked at his assistant with surprise that quickly turned to glee. "That's what you did? Used the goods Bertrand's guard confiscated to cover our costs?"
"A legally defensible portion of it, yes. I was particular about that, my lord."
Albert took a moment to think it through and found the move genuinely splendid. What made it beautiful, and he let himself appreciate it properly, was that it worked on two levels at once.
Practically, costs absorbed, coffers spared.
Politically, every merchant held up at that gate was directing their frustration at the ducal guard, which everyone in the city knew was Bertrand's pet project, since Bertrand had made a point of announcing it from every available rooftop.
And every merchant whose situation quietly resolved itself would know exactly where that resolution had come from: him. The better brother.
"Daniel."
"My lord?"
"You're a genius."
"I had a patient teacher, my lord."
They resumed walking. A comfortable silence followed them down the rest of the stairs, the palace's frenzy muffled behind stone and closed doors.
"Let's just hope our distinguished guest sees fit to arrive before the coffers develop an opinion of their own about our expenses."
About an hour later, the two of them reached the main floor, typically the busiest level of the ducal palace, and today especially so, crowded with servants and guards and, beyond them, people Albert had never seen inside the castle before, all moving in different directions with unmistakable urgency.
And yet none of them were the main source of the commotion. That was Bertrand.
Making his way toward the upper level with Daniel, Albert spotted his elder brother crossing the floor at a pace that had nothing casual about it, a retinue of ducal guard moving with him.
Albert knew his brother liked to keep up a strong front in front of his little army, but he could still see something beneath it, something that told him whatever had happened, Bertrand needed to be first wherever it was happening.
"Bertrand!" Albert called out. More than anything it was reflex, driven by the immediate thought that something had happened to their father. That was the first possibility his mind reached for, but noting the direction his brother was hurrying in, he realized it couldn't be that.
At the call, Bertrand stopped. He gave Albert a look that communicated, with perfect clarity, that whatever this was, Bertrand blamed him for it. Then he turned and left, the ducal guard falling in behind him.
"Daniel," Albert said, still watching his brother's back.
"Yes, my lord."
"Find out what's happening."
"At once, my lord."
It took forty minutes, and a panicked report from a servant Daniel dragged over, before the truth finally reached Albert.
All the meticulous preparation, the fine wine, the musicians, the careful financial maneuvering, all of it, built to welcome a legendary guest, had been entirely in vain, for a reason so stupid it nearly cost the messenger his life, since Albert simply refused to believe it at first. Could anyone blame him?
Their grand guest, a hero from another world, a being thousands of years old who had outlived the rise and fall of entire empires, had somehow managed to die by splattering against the city wall like a common insect.
Albert stood there for a long moment, trying and failing to process the news. He couldn't quite manage it, but he had to do something. "Daniel."
"My lord?"
"Cancel what I said about the brothel."