"Edwin?" John said expectantly
Edwin crossed his arms and put a hand up to his chin, "Comyn, did you bring any evidence of this?"
Comyn stared dumbfounded. He had probably not expected the duke to delegate to Edwin, "Well," he began, "I was going to bring along one of my hired hands as a witness."
"But?" Edwin waited, noting Comyns ' reluctance to continue.
Comyn shifted nervously, "Well, Connal, being the no-good that he is, has bribed all of my hired hands. Even my own wife turned against me," he explained. "Damn Macdonell's," Comyn muttered quietly; Edwin still heard the curse despite Comyn's intentions.
Edwin thought about what to ask next. He smiled as he decided, "How wealthy is Connal?"
"Not wealthy at all, I happen to be the wealthiest in the village. Connal has but ten sheep, a hen, and a house half run down after the winter storms. I, on the other hand, have a house twice as large, and I even have coins too." Comyn said, unable to help himself from self-aggrandizing.
The moment Comyn finished speaking, Edwin felt him fall into his trap, "So if Connal is so poor, how is it that he managed to bribe all of your hired hands?" Edwin watched as Comyn's face grew in horror at being outwitted, "If he has nothing and you have everything, why would your hired hands choose to risk a stable job and pay with a man guaranteed to have the money to pay? Why would they do that for a man whose only recent gain of wealth was two sheep?"
"My lord," Edwin turned to John, "I believe that Comyn is lying; his own words betray the fact that he hates his wife's family. Even if he is not lying, we can't deny the fact that he failed to bring a single piece of evidence to back his claims, not even his wife as a witness."
Comyn stepped forward in anger, "You'd take the words of some child over one of your own subjects?" his words were half question, half accusation.
John stood up from his throne, "He is my page and a member of nobility, remember where you are and who you speak to."
Comyn took a step back; he glared intensely at Edwin.
"Edwin, I agree with your assessment." John turned to Comyn, "You have come to my court and leveled charges against your own family without proof. I find your willingness to turn on your own blood deplorable; normally, I would put you in the stockade for a week and have you lashed. However, I find myself in a lenient mood."
Comyn went to his knees, "Thank you, thank you, thank you, I will never do something like this again."
A silence grew across the room at the words Comyn had just spoken. Edwin wanted to chuckle, but he held it in.
John sighed. "I am not finished," he said, interrupting the begging, Comyn. "You will give a quarter of all your sheep to Connal."
"A quarter, that is outrageous!" Comyn got off his knees and took a step forward. Finchel, who was to Comyn's right, pushed his back to his original position.
"Sir Finchley, send Comyn home with a soldier to ensure he gives over the sheep," John ordered.
Sir Finchley nodded. He pushed the seething Comyn out of the throne room until they were beyond view. A moment later, Finchley returned to the base of the throne.
"Shall I bring in the next?" Finchley asked
"Go ahead," John turned to retake his throne
"That would be me, Father," a feminine voice spoke. Edwin recognized the voice immediately; it was one he hadn't heard since the incident in the cellar of Sonder Keep.
Eleanor strode through the door; she wore a beautiful blue gown matching those pictured in fairytales. Her hair was done up in a high bun with not a single loose strand. "Beautiful," Edwin knew that was the only word he had that could describe her. He wished he were older. She was at least sixteen; Edwin didn't actually know her age, not that age was the issue. The real issue was the difference in social standing.
He hadn't had any opportunity to talk since they had returned from Blychester. Eleanor had been clearly avoiding him; he could understand her reluctance to talk to him. "Not that she has any reason to speak to a lowly page anyway."
"Eleanor," John hugged his daughter, "No lessons today?"
"I thought I would watch you today. I heard you had some matters to settle." Eleanor responded.
"Of course, go stand by Edwin," John said
Eleanor hesitantly turned to Edwin; she must have seen him when she entered the room, but she still seemed surprised at his being here.
John noticed the hesitation, "Will that be a problem?" he asked.
Eleanor shook her head and took a position to Edwin's right.
Awkwardness filled Edwin's heart; he wanted to shift away to put space between them, but the intoxicating perfume of Berries and flowers that Eleanor wore turned his feet into concrete.
"The next person," Finchley started, "is a member of the Blychester Merchants guild."
Edwin was glad for Finchley's distraction; he could feel the occasional glances Eleanor had been shooting him. Not returning the glace had become one of the hardest tasks he had ever known.
The Merchant displayed his wealth clearly; he wore a Bonnet of colored gold, thick golden chains wrapped around his neck, and his chubby hands were covered in rings that threatened to explode under the pressure. His body was covered in loose-fitting clothes of matching golden silk; despite the looseness, his bloated belly still strained the stomach of his shirt.
John left his throne and embraced the merchant, "Lewin, when did you return from Velandia?"
Velandia was the land of marshes and cities to the southeast of Friedan. Stuart had taught him much of the free cities of that land. They were Anlett's greatest trade partners. Nominally, they were under Friedan's control; in reality, it was much different. Near-constant rebellions meant that Anlett always had allies on the Continent to join in wars against Friedan.
"Just yesterday, my lord," Lewin answered
John returned to his seat. "How did your visit go?"
Lewin tossed a sack to John, who deftly caught it, "It went well, I take it." John untied the string, keeping the small coin purse closed. "Thirty gold, impressive."
"Thirty-two gold coins, actually, a complete return on your investment. Once my ship is unloaded, I'll have your share of the profits brought up. I expect you'll be quite happy with the haul." Lewin paused for a moment, his thought complete, he began again, "I actually have a different matter to bring up with my Duke."
"Go on." John gestured for him to speak.
"This morning, my guild met to discuss the current state of trade in our lovely city. As a close friend to you, they decided I should be the one to convey the results of that meeting."
John shifted uncomfortably at the implication of Lewin's words. As Duke, he was the sole ruler of Blychester and its surrounding territories; further, he was the protector of the North. Countless earls, barons, and landholding knights swore fealty to him, but despite his power, he still had to take into account the opinions of the guilds. Specifically, the merchant's guild, Blychester, as the largest northern city and a major trade hub, owed all its wealth to the merchants.
Lewin noticed the duke's unease as easily as Edwin had, "Don't be alarmed, my lord, the guild is happy with our relationship with you. Truly, there are few lords in the realm who give as much attention to the guilds as you have, for that we are grateful."
"Lewin grew up with my father; he is like family," Eleanor whispered
Edwin almost jumped in surprise; he hadn't expected Eleanor to speak to him.
A servant brought in a stool for Lewin, the fat merchant, who had run out of breath by the time he had first entered the door. Edwin concluded that this was a common occurrence; no order had been given to bring in a stool, it had all been natural.
"Thanks," Lewin said to the servant, "The guild knows the tension with the Dunvarrians is out of your control. That king of theirs, Alexander, is the fourth one of that name, I think, well, he's known to be hot-headed and eager to prove himself. I digress, getting back on top, I come with a few Ideas from the guild on how to get trade flowing again."
Lewin produced a rolled-up scroll from a pocket in his silks. John nodded for him to proceed.
"I will start with the idea that most of our guild likes. Spring has just begun, which gives us time to prepare for summer. Our idea is to have a Summer Festival to bring merchants and travelers from far off." Lewin waited to hear John's thoughts on the matter.
"I like it, I do have some que..."
John was interrupted by shouts and commotion behind the room's closed door. "Finchley, see what is going on outside." As the question left John's lips, the door flew open, banging against the walls.
An armor-clad man was being restrained by the two guards stationed outside; he was barely held back.
"Lord!" The man shouted, "My Duke, I bring an urgent message!"
The two guards released the man at a signal from Finchley. He fell to his knee, "I have news, lord."
Without a helm covering his head, Edwin noticed a thick coat of blood covering nearly the entirety of the left side of his face. His plate and chain armor were caked in dirt, grime, and blood. Dents and evidence of battle streaked across his armor.
"Out with it them," Finchley urged
"The Dunvarrians have forded the river at Manstons Crossing. They are besieging Bannock Castle. Lord Mowbray requests assistance immediately. "
Tension mixed with shock at the news filled the air. Eleanor brought a hand to cover her mouth.
John was the first to speak, "How many?" He asked calmly; his attitude was the opposite of all others in the room.
"All of them."