"Elevated hersir, Lady Alva, this way, please. The lord awaits you." said a servant.
Leif merely nodded, Alva answered with an even smaller gesture and took the lead as one who already knew the house. The hersir's brow remained furrowed while he crossed the property. Shortly before entering, he had felt the boy's presence, it was weak compared to his. Weak enough to impress no one, but there was something else in it, something ancient and strange for the color it carried, as a Hersir he could feel what that megin promised.
Leif was certain the presence was Hrafn's, and that only made him more irritated, the boy was a good omen, not the greatest he had ever seen. Even so, Hrafn was good enough to matter, and good enough to justify dispute. The boy had awakened early together with two others, and that by itself would already have been enough to draw attention, but there was also something in him that should not belong to his color, and Leif not believed in whims, the Star had no whims. Three awakened so early in a natural way would already have been an event, as the young man was, it was even more so.
He had wanted to make the offer earlier, the same effort had not been necessary for the other two. They had good colors, Sigrid above all, Hrafn did not, he had the prejudice of the color and the loss of the arm, so Leif had decided to speak for the boy, to use the weight of his own name and force the Hird to think before letting the boy fall into the wrong hands.
The bureaucrats refused, a cripple, they said, was a green and was support, they reminded, was not worth additional effort. But Leif had not lowered his head, he was a hersir and his word would be heard, and it was. Too late.
The cause of that loss walked a few steps ahead of him, with good dress and chin held high. While he argued with the high order of the Hird, reaching the point of letting veiled threats linger in the air, the little noblewoman had made her move and struck an agreement with Hrafn. That had surprised him, for few would understand the boy's true potential. Leif himself only understood because he had seen him close enough to know there was more there than a green ought to carry.
The thought made him boil inside while they were led beyond the hall of the manor into the dining room. The butler was already serving the wine, and the servants were finishing the final preparations for the meal. Hrafn was seated at the head of the table, still in armor, with the horned helmet set beside him. He had his body sprawled in the seat without concern, apparently too tired to bother seeming dignified.
"Elevated Leif, Lady Alva. Come, sit."
Leif pulled out a chair and settled into it. Alva first gave a brief curtsy, then her maid pulled out the chair for her.
"So," said Hrafn, getting straight to the point, "what do you want?"
Leif did not like the tone, as a man of war, he did not appreciate disrespect for hierarchy, but as a soldier, however, he knew how to respect practicality. "I came to warn you," he said.
Hrafn inclined his head, but did not ask him first, and turned to the lady. "And you, Alva?"
"Elevated Hrafn, before anything else I would like to—"
"Yes, Lady Alva," he cut in, with no mercy at all. "For having solved the mine problem, come back alive and all that shit." He made a vague gesture with his hand. "What do you want?"
"I have a marriage contract in my room," she said.
"How nice, i'm happy." Hrafn leaned back a little more in the chair. "Did you come to invite me to be best man? Perhaps a lover?"
Leif frowned a little in surprise, he himself was a direct man but, the young man before him seemed a very particular kind of cynic, even so he said nothing for he had not been offended, and if he was honest with himself, he liked seeing a member of the Crown be mistreated.
"I believe you will not need to be best man, and I believe you have already lost too many limbs to risk another…" Alva replied. "But a wedding gift would be welcome."
"Really?"
"My brother's head, taken in a duel. It would be especially appreciated."
Hrafn raised his eyebrows slightly. "Your brother?"
"It was his 'idea'."
"Your brother does not seem the clever type."
"No," said Alva. "He is not."
"Hmm." Hrafn ran a hand through his hair. "It has not even been a month and I already have a duel. Lady Alva, do you not think you are abusing the contract?"
"Why would I have a contract if not to abuse it?"
"I can take care of the contract," Leif cut in.
The conversation stopped and the two looked at him in different ways. In Alva's eyes there was venom, but she would not spill it. Daughter of a marquis or not, he was a hersir, even her father, however blessed he might be was still beneath that.
Hrafn, on the other hand, looked with curiosity. "You said you came to warn me," said the young voroir. "About what exactly?"
"I came to warn you to leave the Crown."
Alva shifted in the chair. "Elevated hersir, I do not—"
"Quiet, girl." Said Leif. Then he loosed only a sliver of his own presence, but it was enough to make Alva lower her head and tremble in the chair, the maid paled right behind her, Hrafn resisted better, but Leif noticed the tension in his shoulders.
"The Hird is harsh, boy," he continued, now looking only at Hrafn. "But it is better than the Crown. I do not know what agreement they gave you, but once inside that den of pigs, you will be trapped."
Hrafn held his gaze for a moment, rejecting both his words and his megin with stubbornness. "So the Hird has no corruption?" he asked, with a crooked smile. "Can you guarantee that every official, every servant, every high counselor is clean… Are you clean?"
The question was heresy enough to sour Leif's blood. He only tightened his hand upon the table, and his presence grew, this time it was not only Alva who lowered her head, for the air was torn from the room. The servants fell to their knees, the maid lost her balance, even Hrafn bent beneath the weight, and the stone table cracked near Leif's fist, a thin fissure opening like ice breaking apart.
The anger rose hot to the hersir's chest, not because the boy was entirely wrong. It rose because he was right and he would not lie the contrary. In the end, Leif drew the megin back to himself, and the air returned to the room. Alva drew breath as one emerging from water, the servants coughed and Hrafn breathed again without looking away.
Stubborn, rebellious, insolent… Promising.
He believed in the order of the Hird, but he could not answer for all the men who wore it, he could not weigh every heart, nor cleanse every hand, there were too many. And faith, when embodied in too many people, always ended up touching some mud.
So he preferred to show the difference where he could. "The Lady's brothers have already contacted other voroirs of the Crown," he said.
Alva lifted her head too quickly.
"That is not—"
"Say that I am lying, child," Leif cut in, without even looking at her. "Dare."
The silence fell heavy as an answer and Leif turned back to Hrafn. "They will probably ask for a battle of six." he continued. ''And I doubt your alliance in the crown will help you with that boy, because there is no profit''.
This time, even the boy's cynicism seemed to lose its step for an instant. A simple duel was a dispute, a battle of six was something else, the Crown would not move three voroirs for a marriage dispute out of whim. Since they had moved them it meant Hakon was not only an inconvenient brother, it meant that they were going to invest in him. Just as it showed that they wanted Alva out of the board.
Leif saw Hrafn understand that, saw Alva understand it with displeasure as well, just as he saw her realize that he had just stolen the initiative from her. "Leave the Crown. I will deal with the consequences of the contract" said the hersir, now lower. "Make your decision while you can still choose with some dignity."
Hrafn ran his thumb along the rim of the cup, thoughtful. "And entering the Hird would be freedom?"
"No, it would be duty" Leif replied. "But it would be honest, and I have a place for someone like you"