Chapter Thirteen
THE VILLS OF RENEDITH WERE ENCHANTING.
Rich farmlands, plump crofters, well-kept homes.
The people were happy, the pigs fat, and the fields filled with produce.
Lazy sheep, goats, and cattle watched the entourage pass by their pastures with curiosity.
Bannermen of different houses met us at Castle Willowspirit with smiles and bows, eager to discuss the rumors of a temple for elder gods at the shore.
Fisherfolk waved and called out to us as we slid from our horses to gaze up at the stone keep that was now mine.
Not that I’d be spending much time here, and that was a pity, for it was a fine castle.
Oohs and ahhs floated up to greet Jaculi as he circled the tallest towers of the ancestral home of the Stillclouds.
Le’ral, Asdren, and Beiro met up with me in the outer bailey of the castle.
My crew would arrive in five suns aboard a navy sloop.
There was much to get ready before I took off with the queen for a mercy mission.
Masons, stonecrafters, church officials, the heads of the lesser houses within the vills, overseers…
The list was endless, and they seemed to wish to speak to me. Me. A pirate with a coral crown shoved into his saddlebag like an old loaf of bread. I still wondered if my brother fully understood what chaos he had brought into his life.
The castle staff were lined up to greet their new master. The seneschal, a tall woman with gray hair and matching eyes, bowed deeply as we made our way to her.
“Your Highness, it is a distinct pleasure to be able to serve the son of Lady Stillcloud. I was but the pantler when she lived here, but her kind spirit shone brightly for all. I’m known as High Steward Lania Skybluff.
May we show you to your rooms so you may rest from the hard ride from the capital? ”
“Please call me Captain, and thank you,” I said, then found myself being led into the massive stone manse my mother’s family had lived in for hundreds and hundreds of seasons.
It was a glorious keep, richly appointed, with a long history that High Steward Skybluff relayed to us as we were shown our suites on the second floor.
Mine was at the end of a wide hall, a regal room with dark, masculine tones.
I tossed my saddlebags onto the bed. A fire was banked low, the windows open.
Peering through the open window, my vision fell on the town spread out around the castle.
The sea could be seen from here, a brilliant blue under a bright sun.
White clouds floated past, birds of deep red flitted from the eaves to the trees in a vast walled garden.
It was hard to put into words how I felt standing here in the lord’s bedchamber and looking down at the gardens my brother told me of.
Imagining him as a young boy, honey cakes in hand, learning of the woods from a kindly wood elf.
Surely those long years with Kenton had taught the young Aelir so much.
And not just bylaws, tax percentages, and port dues.
How to ensure the woods are cherished, the skies are clear, and the seas are clean.
The seas. Yes. Those would take precedence now, for we had plenty to do and not much time to do it in.
Standing in Umeris Stillcloud’s bedroom filled me with anger and sadness.
The bastard had stolen so much from me to preserve his fucking social status and that of the family.
I’d never known my mother or my brother.
My father was just as guilty. Filled with a rage that had nowhere to go, I began pulling down the stuffy drapes from the windows.
Rings popped as the thick fabric dropped to the floor.
I cleared the walls next. Oils of Renedith as well as paintings of a young Umeris—or so I imagined—were thrown over the balcony to join the draperies.
Any sign of the old bastard was flung out the doors with each heave lifting a bit of ire and pain from my soul.
When I was done, panting and sweated up, I stood in a massive room cleansed of all signs of the hateful prick who had rested here before.
I’d redo the room to suit my tastes. For now, it would be barren save for my trunks that had come from the Cloud’s Shame. Once the tempest died, I crept out onto the balcony to peek over the rail. Several maids and two footmen were rushing about to gather the goods I’d thrown away.
I hoped none had been conked on the skull with a painting of a young elven noble playing yard rings.
Feeling slightly less frenzied, I peeled off the traveling coat I’d worn, at Le’ral’s insistence, then rolled up the sleeves of my white shirt.
Time was not our friend. Work always went faster with many hands on deck.
Leaving the staff to sort out the wagonloads of goods and trunks coming from Avolire, I exited my chambers.
A guard snapped to attention, bowing his head in respect.
“I’m heading to the mason’s guild.” He nodded. “As soon as someone tells me where to find it. Could that someone be you, Guard…”
“Oh, Guardsman Pillor.”
“Well met, Pillor.”
He smiled softly. “I’ll be happy to escort you, Your Highness.”
I clapped him on the shoulder. “Escort away then. Let us round up the dwarf and elf I arrived with as well as the grand advisor.”
Le’ral and I hadn’t had time to speak privately, or do anything else privately, since the witches had shown their arses a few days ago. Now that we were at Willowspirit, I hoped we could fall into each other’s arms again. I’d missed his warm flesh next to mine. More than I should…
“As you wish, Your Highness.”
“You may call me Captain.” He looked as if he had tried to swallow a whole turkey and got it stuck. “Although Your Highness is fitting as well.”
That eased his buggy eyes. It would be a blessing to sail the seas again. They could coat me in titles and swan dander, but I would always be a privateer at heart.
Six days had passed with speed.
I’d never thought that running a vills was so damn exhausting.
Being a captain on a ship was a heavy responsibility, to be sure, but overseeing a whole village?
Thankfully, the seneschal and the staff handled most of the mundane nonsense—did I care what color the flowers in the hall outside the main solarium were?
No, I did not—but still so many frittery things had to be decided by me.
Did the local taxes need to be raised to cover the new temple that the masons were scrabbling to lay?
Did the main hall stairs need to be funded for replacement?
Would we be having a party for my birthing day?
Did I prefer a soft pillow or a firmer one?
When did I wish to hold court to hear and settle disputes amongst the people of Renedith?
I’d shoved all that I dared onto Lania. She was fully capable of overseeing the castle with a firm but just hand.
She’d done so for several seasons. But now that a Stillcloud was seated at the high table in the main hall, she handed me sheaves of papers and stood stoically by my side as the hall became packed with elves looking to me for answers.
Le’ral was off with the church members, talking them down from their irate stance and into allowing a temple to three sea witches to be used for festivals and offerings.
I wasn’t sure which of our jobs was less pleasing, but at least he was by the ocean.
I was stuck in this musty hall passing judgment with coral that smelled of fish and cabbage on my head.
Lania’s suggestion to wear the crown bestowed on me by the sea sisters seemed silly.
But the commoners who came to stand before me seemed awed by it.
Or perhaps they were nervous about speaking to a famed pirate who held court with a troll seated at his feet, playing with colored rocks.
“And so that is how his cock came to be in my dooryard,” a middle-aged elf with thinning hair and no shoes finished his speech as his neighbor holding said cock began to retaliate. “Now my hens are laying eggs with cock spunk in them, which sets off my wife something terrible.”
“Your wife has never had cock spunk on her tongue before?” I asked from behind the wide, dark table I’d been told to sit at. The hall was quite fragrant, filled with unwashed farmers, and my crown stank. I was not having fun. Several of those in the crowd tittered, which made me smile just a bit.
“No, Your High Holy Tide Prince,” the chicken elf replied with total innocence. “She’s severely disgusted by any spunk on her tongue. Breaks out in a rash all over.”
“You have my sympathy,” I commented, leaning back in my seat to balance on the back two legs of my stout chair. A special chair for a special arse. Only the ruler of the vills could plant his regal backside in this seat. Moronic shite if I ever heard it.
“Captain,” Lania whispered as she bent down. “Perhaps your wit, which is razor sharp, is lost on the common masses. Mayhap a ruling on what to do about the rooster depositing his seed into the neighbor’s hen would speed things up?”
I sighed. She was right. “Yes, of course.” I cleared my throat as Prescott yelled, “Purple, blue, yellow toes!” Obviously, he had painted his toes as well as the rocks.
We’d scrub that off later. My chair thudded to the floor.
“Farmer Elmer, while I sympathize with your wife’s spunk allergy, I also can see that the rooster in question…
” Farmer Killian held up his red rooster for all to see and comment on.
“…is a fine rooster indeed, but he is a rooster. I suggest you build a fence for your hens to ensure that any roaming roosters cannot breed them willy nilly.”
“But they like the grass, Your High Holy Tide Prince.”
“Then build them a small rolling coop that you can move daily for fresh grass. Put some wheels on it so you can roll it about. Farmer Killian, I suggest you either do the same with fencing or that you caponize your rooster.”