Ezra knew there was some sort of tension brewing. But this wasn't just tension anymore; this was an overt pushback. He had expected them to delay or complain, but he hadn't anticipated a direct strike against his policies. As far as he was concerned, the Kanzlei had more money now than ever.
Bren had become a hub for literate people. Books attracted merchants, merchants needed scribes, and merchants paid well. Even the new leaseholders wanted scribes, especially those who could draw diagrams for the resin sheets. There were still limitations, of course. The resin press could not produce fine images. But the scribes found a workaround by simply drawing the illustrations much larger before copying them to the resin for pressing.
Merchants sold these oversized books at market value, and people still bought them. The boom was so large that merchants had even started buying lots in Bren's outer ring. Ezra had overheard Maester Kestel complaining about the difficulty of managing the plot divisions across the four market districts.
Maybe that was the root of this confidence. With demand so high, these Kanzlei knew that even if the castle dismissed them, someone else in Fulmen would hire them.
These people knew that ultimately what they were not defying was Ezra it was the Castle and Reitz. This meant that they had enough courage to openly defy Castle Blackfyre. He knew that Kestel, Draffen, Corvin were not behind this. They had seen and understood the value of having more literate people. They also knew that there was a possibility that Reitz would concede on their request.
The man before him was still bowing. His slate-gray cloak pooled on the rough cobblestones. The morning wind tugged at the heavy wool, but Kandel did not move.
Ezra let the silence stretch for another heartbeat before deciding to break it.
"Master Kandel," Ezra said, his voice cutting clearly through the crisp air. "You fear for your children, you say?"
"We do, Lord Ezra." Kandel kept his face angled toward the ground, his words muffled against the stone.
"Then what if the castle guarantees their safety?"
Kandel flinched. He couldn't help but look up, his neck straining against his rigid posture.
"The castle will spare no expense on healers if they catch an ailment," Ezra offered, watching the man's eyes.
"It is hard to say, milord," Kandel said. His knuckles whitened where he gripped the edges of his cloak. "They are tenement children. We all know what manner of illness they carry."
"You work at the Office of the Master of the Rolls, right?" Ezra asked.
"I do, my lord."
"Then I know you have seen the ledgers since the new water boxes were installed." Ezra took a slow step forward, his boots clicking softly on the stone. "You tally the records. You have seen that there are far fewer children dying of illness in the outer ring. Yes?"
The illusion of humility shattered.
Kandel straightened his posture, rising to his full height. The heavy wool of his coat snapped in the wind. He looked down at the toddler standing before him, his jaw set hard, abandoning the meekness for a scribe's cold disdain.
"My lord, I doubt a few months of tallies prove anything," Kandel said evenly. "Your humble servant only wants to be certain that nothing happens to his children."
"Then is there something that you suggest that can be done?"
"My lord?"
"Another way such that you would let the children in?"
"Right now the only thing that we can do is withdraw them, my lord." Kandel, looked hopeful.
"Okay. Now let me ask you a different question."
Kandel did not answer. He looked confused.
"How much would you say a Lord's head is worth?" Ezra asked.
Kandel stumbled back a half-step. "M-my lord? I wouldn't dare."
"Everything has a price, doesn't it?" Ezra tilted his head. "Did Maester Legrand of Vornspon not write of the Arcanist wars?"
Kandel stared. His mouth opened, but no words came out.
"Rex Imperia weighed his own life against the burning of his cities," Ezra said. His voice stayed completely flat. "He asked Legrand what his head was worth. And Legrand told him, 'Every conviction is a ledger. Even a crown can be weighed against the blood of the commons. Find the proper coin, and any soul is bought.'"
Ezra took a slow step forward. "The Emperor had a price. His life in exchange for the citizens. If an Emperor has a price, surely a Lord has one. And surely a clerk has one."
"I... I do not follow. My lord." Kandel's eyes narrowed.
"Okay let me ask you a different question. How much is the price of a slave?"
Kandel didn't answer yet.
"You should know, this. Don't you tally market prices? Bren does not have a slave trade but I know that you monitor the prices of what you consider basic goods across the empire."
"If market rates are to be considered, My lord. It would be a fir for one fit slave my lord.
"A child slave. How much?" Ezra asked, his voice dead flat.
"A fifth of that, my lord," Kandel whispered.
"What about a literate one?" Ezra asked. His voice carried no warmth.
Kandel shifted his weight. His knees scraped against the rough stone. "Double the price, my lord. Sometimes triple, if their hand is steady."
"If a master lends a slave to another man," Ezra said, "and that slave catches an illness under his roof and dies. How much does the borrower owe?"
Kandel swallowed. His throat bobbed visibly above his starched collar. He knew the Imperial codes by heart. "The full market price of the slave, my lord. Plus a fine for the loss of future labor."
Ezra nodded slowly. The morning wind ruffled his tunic, but he stood perfectly still. "Then for a free child, what would be a reasonable price?"
Kandel froze. Behind him, the other bowing parents snapped their heads up. Their eyes widened in horror.
"M-my lord?" Kandel stammered. His hands flattened against the cobblestones, bracing himself. "Free blood cannot be bought. It is against the law."
"But restitution requires compensation, does it not?" Ezra said. He kept his eyes locked on the scribe. "Maester Legrand said every conviction is a ledger. You claim your conviction is the safety of your children. So let us balance the ledger."
Even the other Kanzlei recoiled.
"Their lives are priceless to us, my lord," Kandel said. His voice cracked.
"The Emperor had a price. My head has a price," Ezra said flatly. "Are you saying a clerk's son is priceless?"
"That is not what I am saying, my lord—"
"Ten firs."
The number dropped like a heavy stone. Kandel blinked.
"My... my lord, our children—"
"If a child dies, the castle shall pay a compensation of ten gold firs."
The other parents started to back away. Boot leather scuffed against the cold stone. They looked at each other in mounting panic.
"B-but, my—"
"Twenty," Ezra cut him off. He took a single step forward.
"Wha—"
"You drive a hard bargain, Master Kandel," Ezra said. His tone remained perfectly empty. "Fifty firs, then."
Kandel involuntarily shuddered. A drop of sweat broke out on his temple despite the mountain chill. His mouth hung open. He stared at the toddler, his mind failing to process a bidding war over his own son's life.
"If fifty is not enough, then one hund—"
"M-my lord, please!" Kandel blurted out. He threw his hands out, his Kanzlei composure shattering completely. "That is too much... for our hearts, we... we cannot bear it."
One hundred firs was the amount of ransom paid for an Earl.
Kandel's chest heaved. He looked at the armed guards, at the other parents, and down at the unblinking toddler. He was trapped. If he refused the gold, he admitted the illness was a lie. If he accepted, he looked like a slaver selling his own kin.
He lowered his head. He swallowed his anger and tried to salvage his honor.
"You... you have our respect, Lord Ezra," Kandel said. His voice strained against his throat. He stood up slowly, brushing the dust from his cloak. "We did not know you priced the lives of our sons and daughters as highly as a lord's own life. Your... generosity assures us."
Ezra stared at him. It was a pathetic pivot. Kandel was framing the brutal bidding war as an act of noble grace. It was the only way the scribe could retreat without admitting his bigotry out loud.
"The castle protects its own," Ezra said flatly. "Shall I have Maester Corvin draft the bond?"
"No, my lord," Kandel said quickly. He kept his eyes averted. "Your word is bond enough. The children will attend."
The other parents murmured their forced agreement. They could not redact their statements now. They had demanded a guarantee, and Ezra had given them one fit for an Earl. To withdraw their children today would be an open, undeniable insult to the Blackfyre name. They were forced to comply.
The woman in the gray cloak released her grip on Rencer's shoulder. She smoothed his tunic with stiff, jerky movements. Her face was a mask of cold bitterness.
"Go on," she told the boy.
Rencer looked relieved. He hurried past his mother and joined the outer-ring children standing behind Galwell.
The Kanzlei parents bowed one last time. The bows were rigid. There was no exaggerated humility left, only the stiff, mechanical motions of defeated pride. They turned and walked back toward the inner ring. Their boots struck the cobblestones with heavy, angry steps.
Galwell watched them leave. A wide, toothy grin broke across his scarred face. He let out a booming laugh that echoed in the courtyard.
"I'll be damned," Galwell said, leaning comfortably on his spear. "Me father was a merchant, m'lord, an' I spent half me life watchin' men haggle over bad grain an' steep tolls. But I ain't never seen a bargain struck quite like that. You drove up th' price jus' to watch 'em choke on it."
Dynham chuckled. He pushed off the stone wall. "He didn't bargain with 'em, Galwell. He threw gold at them until they choked on it. Smooth sailing, milord. The channel is clear."
"Lets go. Let's Get them inside," Ezra said nodding. He turned toward the main doors.
"Right away, milord," Galwell called out. He waved the children forward. "Alright, you lot. Into the hall. Move it."
Ezra walked into the castle. The heavy oak doors clicked shut behind him. The immediate problem was solved. The classroom would be full.
But a cold knot formed in his stomach.
He thought of Kandel's face. The scribe had yielded, but he had not submitted. The Kanzlei recorded every slight. They tallied every debt. Ezra had not just won an argument; he had stripped them of their moral superiority in front of the castle guards and their own children.
They had conceded publicly today. They would smile and bow tomorrow. But they would not forget the humiliation.
Ezra walked down the pristine corridor. He had a feeling the this wasn't the end of this. It was only the quiet before it.