A Dagger of the Mind (The Imperial Metals) (3 page)

“Baron, we all did what we had to do during the War. Nobody could blame you for staying away, after the loss you suffered. And certainly nobody would call you a coward.”

The Baron finished his glass of wine in one, tremendous gulp. That he didn’t get any on his beard was a miracle.

“It was not just zee cowardice. I must tell you somezing. A secret.”

Landos leaned over the table, eager to hear the Baron’s confession.

“I was in a tavern, far from home. I had only just heard zat my wife and children were...” his voice faded, lost in thought, “And a man came in, and started a fight with me. I have never been a violent man, Mister Magistrate. But zis man attacked me when I was at my most vulnerable. And I... It is too terrible to say.”

“Baron,” Landos clasped his hand on Dubon’s shoulder, “Sometimes our sins hurt us more because they are also secrets. Please, if I can be of any help to you... Unburden yourself. I will not judge you or think less of you.”

“You are a true friend,” the Baron nodded. “Indeed. I will tell you zee secret. Zis man who attacked me, just as I had suffered zis great loss, I killed him.”

“He attacked you. You had to defend yourself.”

“You are correct, perhaps. But I was angry. I wanted to kill him. Maybe I was in zee right by law. But I was not in my heart.” The Baron collected himself, dabbing his eyes with a crumpled kerchief. “You are right, Mister Magistrate. It is good to talk about zis.”

“I’m glad I could help. And please, when we are just talking ourselves, call me Landos. And, you know what, we could use a world-renowned art appraiser to help us set up the Saint Michael dedication.”

And the Baron did just that. He sent his servant, a tall, silent man named Krugg, on a voyage, where he collected Dubon’s favorite artists and had them all assembled at his estate. There, they worked tirelessly to create paintings, sculptures, banners, and murals, each celebrating the life and legacy of King Michael IV. The Lost King. Landos’ closest friend. Sarah’s husband. The subject of the painting that Landos was looking at that morning by the light of the rising sun.

It was Krugg who entered the ante-room at that moment and whispered in the Baron’s ear. Landos had never heard Krugg’s voice, as the shy servant tended only to share news directly with Dubon. But Landos was still intimidated by the hulking man. He stood well over six feet and was built like a barrel. He always kept his hair short, and he always averted his bright green eyes from making contact with anyone but his master.

“Krugg tells me zat zey are assembling in zee throne room for zee unveiling.”

“Then we shouldn’t keep Her Majesty waiting.”

Krugg wrapped the painting and hefted it over his shoulder, lugging it ahead of Landos and Dubon as they all headed for the throne room. When they arrived, it was quite crowded. Anyone who could find an excuse to be in the gallery had turned up, eager to witness the latest art exhibits for the Hall of Saint Michael.

Krugg placed the painting on a tripod, ready for its unveiling. But now that they were here, Landos could only stare at the enormous crate in the corner of the room. The thing could have caged an elephant.

After a short wait, the doors swung open, and the herald called, “Lords and Ladies, Her Majesty, Queen Sarah Rone.”

Sarah flowed into the room, now in full, elegant regalia. Shimmering fabrics, highlighted with lace and bows, seemed a natural extension of her sheer, blonde hair. She had been transformed from a beautiful woman to a beautiful Queen. A subtle distinction, but one which Landos felt everyday.

Because when he looked into her eyes, she wouldn’t recognize his gaze. As though she hadn’t seen him. He knew she loved him. And he loved her so much it scared him. But after a night of being their true selves, intimate, loving, and affectionate, the
y had to behave like strangers.

The Queen ascended the pedestal, lowering herself into the second-most lavish seat on the dais. The more ornamented one, the King’s seat, had been empty for more than six years, and would be until Prince William was crowned. Three steps below the royal chairs was a plainer seat, meant for Landos, the High Magistrate. But he chose not to sit, and rather addressed the Queen as part of the crowd.

“Your Majesty, you know the Baron Dubon Von Wrims, from Franconne.”

“Of course,” she smiled, “Baron, I hear you have something to show us for the Peace Festival. Could you give us a peek?”

“I would be honored, Your Majesty,” the Baron bowed. With a wave of his hand, Krugg pulled the ropes on the crate. His muscles tensed as, with one tug, he collapsed the side of the crate. It had been designed in such a way that with just that one move, the entire covering folded over, revealing a perfect marble representation of Michael Rone.

The room fell to silence, beholding the majestic representation. On a pedestal of stone, a ten-foot-tall Michael stood, one foot planted on a rock, the Saintskeep raised above his head, a gesture of victory.

“Your Majesty, Magistrate, Lords, Ladies, and gathered guests, may I present zee Statue of Saint Michael, meant to be zee centerpiece for your dedication. I have spoken with many people who knew King Michael, and many who were present during zee Battle of Hartstone. From zese many conversations, my sculptor was able to create a very exciting statue, I hope you will agree.”

“The eyes…” Sarah gasped.

“You have noticed,” the Baron said with a gleeful smirk. “Most of zee statue is comprised of normal marble, but for zee eyes, we added just a hint of emerald dust. Zey reflect zee light, and come alive.”

“What about the sword?” Landos asked.

“An excellent audience I have,” the Baron rejoined. “Zee other little trick is zee sword. It is not part of the sculpture. I commissioned a sword to be forged, as best as I could, to match zee descriptions of zee original Saintskeep. It is embedded in zee marble, but is made of steel, to stand apart.”

“An excellent work!” the Queen said. “Lord von Wrims, you have done us a great honor by bringing these works of art into our home. I look forward to the Peace Festival, when we can share them with the public. I hope, on that day, you will be here to make the presentation yourself.”

“It would be my pleasure,” The Baron said, bowing.

Landos felt the hairs stick up in the back of his neck. Something about the Baron suddenly seemed wrong, but only for a passing moment. Something about his voice, or his accent… Something. He looked at Dubon, who must have been pursing his lips, because his beard was contorted into a strange shape.

“Is something zee matter, Magistrate?” the Baron asked, and Landos almost laughed. Immediately, the ridiculousness of the man alleviated his concerns.

“Nothing,” Landos said. “Everything is fine. Please, have your man Krugg show us the painting.”

“Of course.”

Landos smiled. The Baron was quite a character.

Chapter
2: Things To Talk About When Sparring With The Countess

So
the Kingdom of Rone is subdivided into Duchies and Counties. And those Duchies and Counties are further divided into Baronies. With all those territories, and almost six-hundred years of history, there had been countless rulers.
Some
benevolent
, some cruel.
Some smart, some idiotic
. They were an eclectic bunch. In all that time and in all those places, there was only one uniting feature for all of them: They all had a penis.

Until six years ago.

After the Argosian War, the County of Deliem was a mess. The final battle destroyed Castle Hartstone, the nerve center of the land. Twenty thousand dead, walls crumbled, earth scorched. But one thing seemed clear. Lady Julia Vye had won the war.
She
showed up on the battlefield with the
head of the Turin leader
.
Nobody could claim to have contributed as much to the effort.

So the County went to her. It just happened. There wasn’t a vote. There wasn’t a discussion. There wasn’t even a formal ceremony. Somebody started calling her, “The Countess,” and it stuck.

A stranger to the Kingdom might find it unusual that nobody objected.
Despite
never having helped anyone make a good decision about anything,
penises
were the assumed
sine qua non
of leadership. But objecting to Countess Vye came with some risks. You see, she had trained with a Sword Master for four years, becoming the most fearsome warrior in the Kingdom. And that was before she also became the only person in Rone who could use magic.

So there was Vye. In charge and unchallenged. But she had a problem. She was the absolute best fighter and wizard in the Kingdom, and she understood war enough to serve as a military advisor. But she really had no idea how to run an entire County. Especially not one in the shape Deliem was in when she inherited it.

The County used to have an awesome staff. Count Michael had the mind of a leader. But he had died in the war.
The
High Lieutenant of Deliem was Landos, who was now serving as the
High
Magistrate of the Kingdom. The Castellen was dead. The Field Martial was dead. Even the fanatically loyal jester was missing.

So Vye had to rebuild the castle and the staff from scratch. But she wanted to do it all in one move. She was just going to hire a High Lieutenant and let him take care of everything.

She started with a man named Sir Noble. Excellent fighter, clear-minded, true-hearted. But all of that left him with the same skill set as Vye. He could lead a battle, but he couldn’t corral people to build faster. Eventually, Landos offered him a position as Captain of the Guard in the Capital, so he left.

Her next hire was even worse. She reluctantly brought on a man named Harold Rutherford, who was the cousin of a man the Countess once knew, also named Harold Rutherford. She had hoped that incompetence wasn’t a family trait, as incompetence was the only thing she remembered about the previous Harold Rutherford.

Unfortunately, the new Harold Rutherford, while a more pleasant person to talk to, was just as incapable of running the County as his predecessor. Harold made such a mess of the reconstruction project that Vye assumed he was stealing money. But when she checked over the paperwork, she discovered it was just horrible management of resources. It would have been easier to steal the money than to mess it up this badly.

Vye then had the fortune of meeting a young man named Duncan.

The
Peace with the Turin was still being negotiated at the
time
.
In the early days of the Treaty, less than a month after the end of the war, Landos and the Queen always brought Vye along to the meetings. They didn’t want to be threatening. But they imagined the Turin would be a little intimidated by the woman who had killed their leader.
Walk
softly and carry the most fearsome warrior-wizard the land has ever
known
.

It was in those early meetings that Vye first encountered Duncan. The Towers of Seneca had sent some of their best scholars to the peace negotiations, and the best of the best was Duncan. He understood the Turin language backwards and forwards. He was just supposed to help the leaders understand one another, but he was smart and proactive, and he ended up having a lot of influence on the early versions of the Treaty.

Vye was impressed with Duncan. Because he wasn’t just smart and capable, he also seemed to be good at getting along with people. Tall, youthful, a thin beard, and a hell of an athlete. Maybe not the strongest or fastest, but always picked first for every sport. Maybe not the handsomest, but always surrounded by women. If people were magnets, he was a huge deposit of iron ore.

So Vye planted a flag in him. She basically told Landos that when the early stages of the Peace Treaty were finalized, she was taking him home with her. And she hadn’t regretted it for a moment. His first order of business was rebuilding the Castle. Everyone assumed that, in order to fix his predecessor’s mistakes, he was either going to have to spend more money than he had or take twice as long as he was supposed to.

Neither of those suppositions turned out to be true. The Castle came in under budget and was finished in two years. And it wasn’t a shoddy product.
The
Towers soared, the decor was stately, and the walls gleamed in the
sunlight
.
So, how did he do it? Did he learn magic from Countess Vye?

No, but he did come up with an ingenious strategy. The War had devastated many structures in the County, and they all needed rebuilding. Sir Noble and Sir Rutherford, Duncan’s predecessors, had planned to address each of these projects piecemeal. But Duncan organized the repairs as one enormous undertaking. Castle Hartstone, Rutherford Manor, Fort Lockmey, the Deliem Bridge, and the Merrick Tower were folded into a single, huge project.
Taking
advantage of an economy of scale, Duncan restored all the landmarks in Deliem to their prewar
condition
.
His second biggest task was the staff. About three months before the Castle was completed, Countess Vye had become ill because of some bad food.

“This never used to happen when Michael ran the show,” Vye explained to Duncan.

“Was Michael that good of a chef?” Duncan smirked.

“Well, he did have the Sword of Kings,” Vye mused in her fever, “So really, nobody was better at peeling a potato.”

“I’ll start looking into the whole staff. But are you sure you don’t want to be involved in this process?”

“What did I tell you when I first hired you?”

“That you liked being the Countess because everyone had to listen to you,” Duncan recited from memory, “But you didn’t want to actually have to do anything.”

“Correct.”

So
Duncan met everyone who worked in the Castle. One at a time, in person, alone. He promoted the people who were good at their jobs, he sent off the ones that were terrible at
theirs
, and he filled in some of the positions that had been vacant since the war.

So what was the Countess doing with all this time? Was she just drinking mimosas and getting a tan? No. Vye wasn’t wired that way. She didn’t like to do nothing, she just wanted to do the things she knew how to do. So she spent most of her time training the guards. Technically, it was a task that was below her pay grade, but she got a thrill out of it, and Hartstone ended up with the best-trained guards in the Kingdom.

But she had another skill that was sought after, and that was her magic. She tried to train a student here and a student there. Smart, capable people, by her judgement. But it didn’t stick. None of them could pick it up, and Vye couldn’t say why. She still wasn’t sure why she, herself, had managed to learn sorcery. It was something that sort of happened to her.

After a few dropouts, Vye’s first real pupil was a girl name Nuria. She had been nine when Vye decided to start training her, and four years later, she was learning fast. Many people were confused by Vye’s decision to train Nuria. If you were only going to train one person to use magic, why would you choose an eighty pound girl?

Vye had two reasons. The first reason was Nuria’s ability to climb. Those who knew nothing about magic were happy to tell you that climbing had nothing to do with magic. But Vye was looking for something in her potential students, and she didn’t know what it was until she found it in Nuria. It was someone who looked at things from a different perspective. Nuria had the instincts of a parrot. She always wanted to find the highest perch. She didn’t climb for the fun of climbing. She climbed for the view.

The second reason was the day that Vye saw her playing with a group of older boys. They were playing at jousting with broom handles in place of lances, and crate covers for shields. Two of the boys would line up at opposite ends of a small field, run towards one another, and smash together. The fact that none of them lost an eye was kind of amazing.

And then Vye, who was watching from her balcony, saw Nuria walk up to the boys and ask for a go. They laughed, of course. She had all the bulk of a feather pillow. But she kept insisting until they said yes. Vye was reasonably worried. But Nuria seemed confident. So instead of yelling at some nearby guards to put a stop to the nonsense, Vye watched, carefully.

Magic was not something Vye completely understood. And after six years of practicing, she was still learning new things about it. But one thing she had realized was that she could...feel with the magic. She could put out vibes. Some things she could passively sense, if they were strong enough or close enough. But if she chose, she could send out a magical arm. An antenna of sorts.

So as she saw Nuria line up across from a rugged teenage boy, Vye reached out. She felt Nuria’s heartbeat. Sensed her steady breathing... If anything happened, Vye would be able to protect her. She would let the brave girl take her turn, but Vye would make sure her heart kept beating, her lungs kept expanding and contracting, her skull stayed in one piece.

And then Nuria turned to Vye. Across the courtyard, over the din of the marketplace, from the ditch by the road to the height of the balcony, Nuria made eye contact with Vye. Of course, many people throughout the day would glance up at the Countess. She was their leader, and a bit of a legend. People glared at her all the time.

But Nuria hadn’t turned around by chance. Somehow, the girl had sensed Vye. Somehow, she had known that Vye was watching her. She smiled at Vye and turned back to the boys.

Her hefty opponent charged across the line, broomstick held all the way out, wooden slats protecting his body. Nuria sprinted right back at him. But the broom was too heavy for her to hold upright. The boys laughed, making jokes about erectile dysfunction that three of the five of them would eventually suffer.

Nuria really did look lost. Her towering opponent was about to impale her on his “spear.” But that’s when everyone realized that she wasn’t trying to hold hers upright. She was trying to find the right place to plant it in the ground. She lodged the end under a rock and launched herself up with the bristles of the broom, arcing over the expected point of impact like the tip of a metronome.

And she pulled the “shield” up with her. In the middle of her vault, she planted her feet on the crate top, tucked her foot into the “handle” and slammed it right into the boy’s face.

That was how Nuria operated when she was nine. After four years of practicing, she was starting to amaze Vye. She was never a match for pure power, speed, or endurance. But her mind was working on a whole other level.

So on that day, the same morning in which the Baron Dubon von Wrims unveiled the Statue in Anuen, Vye came into the sparring room in Hartstone to a truly mind-bending sight.
Nuria
was perched, as she often was, high above the floor. But she hadn’t climb
ed there. She was suspended in
midair
.
Her eyes were closed, concentrating.

And on the ground was a suit of armor. With a sword and shield. And even though there was nobody inside the armor, it was stomping around the room, swinging its blade and taking stances.

“What are you doing?” Vye demanded.

“They said I could borrow the armor,” Nuria defended. “Do you want to spar? En garde!”

The scale mail turned, shield forward, sword back, ready to strike. A duelist’s pose.

“Can you get down here?” Vye demanded.

“Don’t think you can take me?” The empty armor swung its sword around, as though trying to intimidate Vye.

“I can strangle you with your own ponytail.”

“I’m coming down,” Nuria said, her eyes snapping open. The armor collapsed in a clash of metal. Nuria grabbed the cushion, floating gently to the floor.

“How am I supposed to teach you lessons,” Vye asked, “When you’ve worn yourself down like this?”