Cyador’s Heirs

LXXXV

Two eightdays later, well past fourth glass in the afternoon, Lerial returns from Lancer headquarters, where he has been assisting Captain Chaen in training new Mirror Lancer recruits, to find himself summoned to his father’s study. He suspects he knows why, given that the courtyard is filled with both Mirror Lancers and a squad of armsmen in golden brown uniforms

He steps into the study and inclines his head. “Ser, you requested my presence?”

“I did. Duke Casseon sent an envoy. I’ve just finished meeting with him. I thought you should know.” Kiedron picks up several sheets of heavy parchment and extends them to his son. “I’d like you to read his proposed agreement and tell me what you think.” A hint of a smile lingers at the corners of his lips.

Lerial begins to read, skimming the honorifics and niceties and concentrating on the significant sections.

… clear and obvious that the inhabitants of the Verd, the people of the area that calls itself Verdheln, have chosen to be ruled by you … have made that choice with life and blood, as well as with order and chaos … as Duke of Merowey, I have striven to keep chaos from my people, another reason for my acquiescence in their choice … as an honorable ruler of Merowey I will respect that choice …

In return, I would trust that you, as Duke of Cigoerne, will ensure that the people of the Verd refrain from any raids or warlike acts against the peoples south of the Verd … that you will also take all steps to keep raiders from Afrit or elsewhere from using or crossing those lands to trouble my people … I would also trust that the boundaries between our lands follow those suggested on the attached map, although we should agree that, if it is in our joint interests, small modifications to those boundaries may be possible …

There is a great deal more, but those are the parts that are most important.

Lerial looks up and lowers the papers. “It’s a great victory. Cigoerne is now almost as large as Afrit.”

“Not really. Afrit is a third again our size, with far more people.”

“For now,” Lerial points out.

“For now,” Kiedron agrees. “I shouldn’t question this too closely, I suspect, but even after reading the majer’s report, I can’t see exactly how he managed this.”

Lerial smiles politely. “We didn’t, not alone. The Verdyn did, with blood and ashes. The last two battles delivered the final message. Duke Casseon sent something like six chaos mages along with forty-five companies…” Lerial suspects there may have been more, but he remains uncertain whether, in some cases, his order-controlled and redirected chaos killed or merely stunned a chaos mage. “… in the end a few survivors, if that, straggled back to Yakaat. Casseon knows we had only six companies.”

Kiedron laughs, but the sound is tinged with rue and puzzlement. He looks to Lerial. “You had more to do with this than you’re saying, didn’t you? More than I even suspected.”

“I was able to redirect some chaos bolts, ser.” That is all Lerial wishes to admit.

“Saltaryn has said you had limited abilities to gather order or chaos.”

“Apparently, ser, I have fewer difficulties in turning that which others have gathered against them.”

“Apparently.”

Lerial steps forward and lays the sheets on the desk. “You’ll still have to negotiate a few things.”

“Of course.” Kiedron smiles. “And you can take my place in periodically riding patrols along the Afritan borders.”

“I’d be honored, ser.”

“No … I’m the one to be honored … and relieved.”

Lerial returns his father’s smile.

Everything will continue as it had before Duke Casseon’s ill-considered attack on Verdheld, or perhaps with even fewer border skirmishes and raids … at least for a while … and that is all anyone can expect.

“Let’s go tell your mother and aunt. They’ll be pleased.”

The two walk from the study toward the sun-drenched courtyard.