Chapter 8 #2
There was a tension in the air as King Mikki spoke.
Though nearly all the men in attendance were kings in their own right, King Mikki held the most power.
And not just magically. His kingdom was bigger, wealthier, and more resourced than any of the other kingdoms. Owain didn’t know what King Mikki was playing at or why he really wanted this alliance, but it was clear he was not afraid to wield his influence to get whatever it was he was after.
The meeting continued like that for several more hours, each king posturing and trying to make themselves seem more important than they were.
Each king was also trying to diminish Edam in any way they could.
By the time the meeting concluded, Owain could hardly keep his eyes open.
He hardly remembered the walk back to his rooms; his only focus was reminding himself that in the end, all this would be worth it.
* * *
Wake up. Eat. Sit in court offices. Stare at the contemptible faces of the various kings and lords in attendance. The next several days continued like that. Meetings with lords and kings, discussions of the ways that Edam could atone for waging war on the Kingdom of Emmental.
It was a far cry from his routine before coming to Imsil.
Owain had no time to spar with the other warriors, no time to train his body or even sharpen his swords.
Hells, he hadn’t even ridden a horse in the time he had been here.
He could feel the atrophy that caused so many nobles to be slow and sedentary creeping up on him.
Years as a warrior had made Owain accustomed to always being on the move.
Sitting in tedious meetings all day and drowning his annoyance with whiskey every night was doing a number on his body.
Owain had seen very little of Orla. She would meet him outside his rooms, walking him to whatever meeting room he needed to be in, and then drop him back off when he was done.
He had tried to ask her about training again and got the same peculiar response as he did the first time he brought it up.
Each evening, after having supper and debriefing with the lords of Edam about who may act as a potential ally in their coup, he would stare out of his balcony and watch Orla as she sat.
Like clockwork, she would appear in the garden and sit on a bench with her knees tucked under the chin.
Occasionally, she would bring a book to read, but mostly she sat alone in the dark.
He didn’t even realize it had happened, but those had become his favorite parts of his day, just watching her exist. He told himself he was gaining information about her habits and patterns, but a part of him knew he simply liked watching her.
The one day he finally left the palace was to visit the Port of Imsil and discuss trade with one of the shipmasters.
Orla didn’t join them during their trip to the port.
Shortly after breakfast, Owain received a knock at his door from the palace messenger who handed him a folded letter. The letter was from Orla.
I won’t be accompanying you and the other Edamish lords to the port today. I am feeling unwell.
Orla
Disappointment struck Owain, though he wasn’t sure why.
Chrys joined him a few moments after the messenger left and the two of them traveled down to the ornate palace gates where a large blue-and-silver carriage was waiting for them.
Lord Patrin and Lord Calix were talking in hushed tones when Owain and Chrys arrived.
It was a scene Owain was used to. Nobles talking quietly about him when he wasn’t in ear shot.
But for some reason, the tense way the two were speaking made him feel on edge.
The men loaded up into the carriage and set off towards the port. They traveled into the city along well-worn cobblestone streets, passing various shops and pubs before turning away from the city center and heading towards the ocean.
While trade was the official mission of this journey, really, they were looking for allies.
If Edam was able to mount a successful coup, they needed to make sure that the other kingdoms couldn’t launch an effective counterattack, and the best way to do that was to control goods that came from the continent.
It was a move directly modeled after how King Mikki had maintained power for centuries.
The other kingdoms on the continent largely depended on the port in Emmental for many of their goods.
If King Vernon controlled both the Edamish and Emmentalian ports, he would effectively control the continent of Esrom.
They arrived at the port to find it full of large ships carrying an assortment of wares. It was early in the day, and the cool breeze intensified the smell of the sea as they approached the various ships and merchants.
There were ships carrying foods, exotic fruits, and vegetables that didn’t grow in Esrom.
There were also ships that sold weapons, magically fortified by witches and crones.
Smaller ships carried wares like clothing and magically fortified armor.
Each ship had its own crew loading goods from the various ships and onto large horse-drawn wooden wagons to be taken into the city.
The merchants who were selling weapons and foods would be the first who Owain and the lords would approach.
Owain spotted a gruff centaur that was the merchant for one of the ships that was delivering weapons, though these weapons were unique. They weren’t Elven made. The weapons had runes etched on them, making them imbued with magic beyond the magic of whoever wields the weapon.
It was rare to see weapons like these; only extremely wealthy or powerful beings would have the coin to purchase these weapons. And as most Elves held disdain for any magic that wasn’t their own, it was surprising to see these weapons in Emmental.
“Hello, Goodman,” Owain announced as he approached the centaur.
He was an old male, with long dark hair streaked with grey.
His upper body was thick and strong, and his lower half had clearly been honed through years of labor.
The male looked Owain up and down once with suspicion etched across his face.
“M’lord,” he said, offering Owain no further pleasantries.
“These are fine weapons you have here. I’m surprised to see runed weapons in a place like Emmental.” Owain knew the subtext was clear. All creatures who lived or traded with the kingdoms on Esrom knew how closed-minded Elves could be.
“Someone purchased ’em, I supplied ’em. Simple as that, m’lord.”
“And if someone else was interested in purchasing them, and paying enough that you were disinclined to sell to your current buyer, would that still be so simple, my good man?” There were few who would be buying these weapons, and if Owain could get this supplier to sell to Edam instead of Emmental, that would go a long way in securing the alliances they needed while stopping Emmental from acquiring weapons that could be used against them.
The centaur was shrewd. He looked at Owain and the lords who had accompanied him; he held his gaze on the red griffin sigils they wore and knew they were Edamish.
“For the right price, m’lord, it can be as simple as you want it to be.”
Owain and the lords were able to secure tentative alliances in the form of a bargain with the centaur.
If there was a change in the leadership of Emmental, the ship merchant would be paid handsomely to only supply to the new king.
More tentative alliances were formed at the port with other merchants who sold food and goods to Emmental.
It appeared that many of the merchants were happy to support whoever paid them best, and as Edam was the wealthiest kingdom on the continent, Owain was in a perfect position to do just that.
Once they returned to the palace, Owain was once again ushered into mind-numbingly dull meetings with the other lords. But at least now, they were making progress towards putting their plans into action.
* * *
The following day, Owain was sitting in the parlor of his rooms gazing out of the window. He was preparing to meet Orla for her to escort him to yet another meeting.
How many meetings could one male be expected to attend, Owain thought to himself.
He decided enough was enough. Feigning an important matter to attend to, he decided to send Chrys and Lord Patrin to the day’s meetings in his stead.
He had told Chrys that he was going to use the day to get more information out of Orla, but really, he abhorred the idea of more court posturing.
Though he loathed to admit it, Orla was right; in many ways he was playacting at being a lord, and he hated it.
“I have a proposition for you,” he said when he approached her outside of his rooms. “Take me somewhere interesting. I’ve had enough of seeing the insides of court offices to last a lifetime.
” He made the proposal with a sheepish smile, hoping she wouldn’t ask why he wasn’t going to the meetings with the other nobles.
She eyed him warily. Though the two were cordial since their exchange in the rose garden, no one could say that either had warmed to the other, but they weren’t hostile to one another either.
“What do you mean by interesting?”
“Do you need a definition of the word?” He smirked. She narrowed her eyes at him but said nothing. “Sweet abyss, don’t look so skeptical. I’m bored, and I am asking you to entertain me,” he said, calling attention to the look on her face.
“My job isn’t to entertain you; my job is to guard and escort you. Or did the king change the demands he made of me?” she said, a hint of a smile playing on the corners of her lips.
“Ah, perfect, then I am asking you to escort me to the most interesting place in this palace.” Orla paused for a moment, glaring at Owain before she finally responded.
“Fine,” she huffed, “follow me.”
* * *