"Milady..." Adrian greeted the Baroness.
Lady Ela turned her gaze away from the window and toward him. "Adrian Harrow... Harrow... Do you know what your surname implies?" she asked. Her voice was almost ethereal, and her smooth, long brown hair swayed slightly in the night breeze.
The Lady Ela was just a peasant from the nearby village before the baron took her as her wife before when his sons didn't return from the war.
"I'm afraid I don't, Milady," Adrian replied honestly. Thoughts raced through his mind, and a single, startling possibility took root. No way, right?
Lady Ela's calm gaze lingered on him for a few moments before she spoke again. "I have a favor to ask of you."
"What is it, Milady?"
The Lady paused, then gestured with her hand toward a small pouch sitting on a side table. "I won't tell you now. Take the pouch, that is only half of the payment. One day, I will call upon you for that favor."
Adrian was lost. "Um... what exactly is it that Milady wants?"
The Baroness didn't respond. She simply turned her gaze back to the window. "Go. Take the pouch, and don't keep the steward waiting."
Adrian hesitated before grabbing the small pouch. It didn't sound like it held many coins. He tucked it away and left the room.
It was only after he had spent several more hours with the steward, learning the manners of a lord, that Adrian finally returned to his house and saw what was inside the pouch. The interior was lined with wool to hide the contents and dampen the clink of metal. When he poured out the ten silver coins, ten shillings and he was shocked.
That was half a pound! It was more than a month's worth of earnings for him.
What kind of favor could the Baroness possibly need that required such a sum? Moreover, this was only half the compensation, what kind of favor does he need to do in return? If he had known it contained this much, he would have insisted on knowing what the favor was before accepting it. Now that he held the pouch, he couldn't deny her.
He wondered if he could find a way to return it, the weight of the coins in his palm felt like a heavy responsibility. As he reached his home, decided to set the matter aside until he returned from Whitesand Town.
Tomorrow was another venture he needed focus.
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"Are you a lord now?" Tatum asked him, eyes bright as he looked at Adrian's clothes, which were far too extravagant by his standards.
"Not really. More like a steward standing in the Lord's stead." Adrian answered.
He had garnered curious looks when he stepped out of the castle wearing noble finery. Questions were inevitable, but one onlooker had voiced his thoughts aloud before quickly shutting his mouth. The Baron had no other sons, and despite having a young and beautiful wife, they had not been able to conceive another child.
And now, gossip was spreading that Adrian was to be the heir if the Lord did not produce a son soon.
Honestly, Adrian didn't know how to take it. On one hand, becoming a lord was unbelievable, the kind of thing peasants only dared to dream of. On the other hand, he was skeptical. The position seemed so far beyond him, and he wasn't eager to carry such a heavy burden of responsibility, he actually liked his life as it was.
Ultimately, he chose not to give those thoughts much focus.
"But you're wearing a lord's clothes, and the steward is being your… well… steward!" Tatum persisted.
Adrian rolled his eyes. "Trust me, after today, you won't see me in this finery again… unless I strike it rich or find buried treasure."
It was then that the steward, along with Sir Cordell, arrived. Tatum scampered off quickly, and Adrian chuckled at the brazen kid.
"Master Adrian… do not forget our lessons," Steward Osway said as they approached. He had taken to referring to Adrian as Master, which was more agreeable to Adrian than Lord.
"How could I? You've mentioned them enough already." He rolled his eyes again, wondering if they might actually fall out of his sockets if he kept it up.
Steward Osway merely smiled. "I must remind you that you are representing not only yourself but the Barony and its lords."
"I know." Adrian understood the implications. If he shamed himself in this meeting, his head could be on the block. And he very much like where his head at now.
"Are we all set?" Sir Cordell asked. A retinue consisting of servants, a few guards, the knight, and the steward would accompany Adrian on the journey.
"Let me do one final check," the steward said, inspecting their boats.
Sir Cordell approached Adrian's side. "Are you ready?"
"As ready as I can be, I guess."
Once the checks were complete, they set off. Adrian watched the disappearing village with a sigh and then squared his shoulders. He needed to hold his head high for this.
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They arrived at the town a few hours before sunset. At first glance, the docks didn't look too different, but the people moved differently now, wary and cautious. The usual bustle and shouting had died down, replaced by whispers and gossip. As they walked the streets, they saw fewer people outside, most remained huddled indoors.
"It seems they defended the town, but whoever attacked spooked them," observed Dexton, one of the guards.
"The Islanders are known for their brutality," Sir Cordell commented. "Not to mention their fondness for taking slaves."
Slavery was outlawed in the kingdom and considered an act of barbarism, but in other places, like the Maglu Islands, it was a lucrative business.
"Life is valuable, I suppose. Some just take that a little too literally," Adrian remarked.
Soon they arrived at the edge of town where the castle stood, built into a small hill. It was larger than Baron Harrow's castle and far more complete. A small group awaited them in front of the open gates. A man stepped forward, sporting a grey beard and a scholarly air.
"Welcome. I am Wolfred, steward of this castle. May I ask this lord's name?" He bowed to Adrian, who stood at the head of the group.
Adrian stepped forward and cleared his throat. "Adrian Harrow, cousin to the current Lord of Harrowfield."
The baron, Gareth Harrow had advised him to refer to himself simply as "cousin" rather than "distant cousin."
"Lord Adrian, I am pleased to meet you. Lord Sanford will receive you later. Please, let me show you to your quarters."
"Lead the way," Adrian said. The steward shot him one last meaningful glance before they broke off, Adrian following Steward Wolfred into the keep.
As they entered the yard, Adrian saw soldiers training on one side and servants busying themselves on the other. What caught his eye, however, were the soldiers near the wall. Their armor and clothing were so well-crafted that they looked entirely out of place.
The castle's finest soldiers, perhaps? Or knights? he wondered.
He was led to a room with a bed larger than any he had ever seen, several chairs, and a large window with heavy drapes. Looking out, he could see the stables below, filled with fine horses, one even wore decorative barding. Just as he was admiring how rich the Sanfords were compared to the Harrows, there was a knock at the door.
That was fast.
He didn't even have time to change before he opened the door to find a servant waiting.
"Milord, Lord Sean asks that you join him."
Adrian raised an eyebrow. "Lord Sean? The heir?"
"That is right, milord."
"Alright, let me just change quickly."
After changing into more comfortable, yet still noble, clothing lent to him, he followed the servant. He expected to be led to a great hall, instead, they walked out of the castle and up a rising hill to a pavilion where a group had already gathered.
There were three knights in full plate armor, their cloaks yellow and gear expertly designed. On their chests was a sigil, a sun rising over mountains.
Adrian sucked in a sharp breath. Even without Steward Osway's lessons, he recognized that symbol.
He climbed the path until he reached the pavilion. One man had brown hair tied in a ponytail; he was sturdy and tall, Sean Sanford, the heir of Whitesand Barony.
Beside him was an older, more muscular man. Adrian didn't recognize him, but he was clearly of high enough status to speak casually with Lord Sean.
However, Adrian's attention was immediately pulled toward a youth with pale, soft blonde hair, wearing clothes far finer than anyone else in the pavilion. A herald stepped forward to introduce them.
"Be welcome, Lord Adrian Harrow, cousin to the Baron of Harrowfield," the herald announced, then gestured grandly toward the blonde youth. "In the presence of Prince Cale Attareus, second son of His Majesty by the Second Queen, and Prince of the Realm."
The prince turned to him and smiled warmly, "Lord Adrian, good to meet you… come and join us."
Adrian stood there frozen for a moment shocked.
'Oh, hell…'