Chapter 63

Gerald watched as Arthur gave the knight a reproachful glance. "It was bought, my lord. Simply, Count Westwell only had to pay a third of the price."

Robard snorted. "Certainly less than a third."

Arthur glanced at him again, this time his gaze sharper.

Gerald fixed a weighty stare on his minister. "Speak, Arthur."

The old minister nodded with a resigned frown. "When the Viscounty weakened. Count Westwell took hold of the mine. There were no troops to resist him near the mine back then. It was newly discovered and we hadn't begun mining it yet." He glanced at the knight beside him. "Robard asked your father to allow him to lead the troops and liberate the mine. The Count was likely testing us, and if we moved troops towards the mine, he would let it go. Your father agreed. When Robard arrived he was greeted with the Count's troops which outnumbered ours. The two armies stood off near the mine. A few days later, your father and the Count met near there. Count Westwell ended up forcing your father's hand. The mine was sold for much less than its worth."

"So there was no battle?" Gerald frowned.

Arthur shook his head. "A battle would have been too costly. Count Westwell seemed adamant, and I believe he would have taken the chance to cripple our army. He has been trying to grow his power for a while now. Your father likely didn't want to leave the outskirts of Ard defenseless. Going to battle against Count Westwell would have weakened the Viscounty even more than it was already weakened."

Gerald nodded, his teeth discreetly gritted. He hadn't even been here, but it angered him that they were robbed of the mine. He needed it now. It would have been a boon to the territory's growth.

"That was many years ago. The mine's almost dried by now, my lord," Arthur said after a short pause. "It wasn't that large to begin with."

"Very well," Gerald said. He knew his minister was dissuading him from going after the mine "Let's continue." He would have to prepare himself for future encounters with the rabid Count though. It seemed that old alliances meant nothing to him.

Arthur sighed then returned to the map. "Count Alaric Westwell borders the basin from the southwest. West of his territory is The Sleeping Sea. But only the northern part of his territory borders the sea. South of the river, he is separated from the sea by a Viscounty which he is in conflict with. As you can see, my lord, only a third of his territory is north of the river. The city where his house takes root is south of the river. The northern part of his territory, being barren, is used for producing small amounts of salt, fishing, and rare maritime trade. Maleh, a seaside town, is the heart of the latter two. Recently, the Count has also been prospecting his northern borders for mines. It began when he found our mine. Since then he's been scouring the mountain range for more."

"Anything else?" Gerald said.

Arthur shook his head. "Count Eryale's territory," he pointed at the County southeast of the basin, "borders the Wild Plains to the east. Sometimes he has to withstand raids from the wild tribes. But also, his territory borders the Wild Plains north of the river only. South of the river he is separated from the Plains by several Baronies." He slid his hand towards the northern pass. "Next would be the north, my lord, which I imagine you are more knowledgeable of."

Gerald nodded. He pointed at the forest north of the basin. "Like a very thick wall, the forest separates the two territories north of the basin. Duke Malfi's territory is to the northeast and Count Herwald's territory is to the northwest. The two are at odds, but the Duke cannot act against the Count because the latter has ties with the Imperial family of Andross."

"Can we not buy the timber from this Count?" Arthur asked.

Gerald pursed his lips in thought. "I'm not certain. It will depend on how things go with the Duke. Trading with his rival might draw his ire, and I don't intend to risk my sister's well-being. It's too early to tell though." He returned his eyes which had strayed to the map. "West of Count Herwald's territory is The Sleeping Sea. Unlike Count Westwell in the southwest, Count Herwald's territory isn't separated from the sea at any part. His lands thrive on maritime trade, and he has a lot of power over the general trade in the south of Andross, which is one of the reasons he's at odds with the Duke."

"He could make a valuable ally should your lordship contend with the Duke," Robard pointed out.

Gerald shook his head. "The only thing that ties me to the Duke is Lena. Otherwise, there is nothing to contend over. I don't have enough strength to battle him in any case. And I'm no fool to start a war between Maric and Andross because of my conflict with him. Any military conflict between us could spark such a war overnight. We'd be the first to suffer during a war. That's why the King cares for us as little as he cares for his stallion's shit. There are very few things we can do to harm the Kingdom without harming ourselves."

Arthur nodded. While Robard simply grew silent.

A few hasty knocks fell on the door. Gerald instantly recognized them as his attendant's, Harrid's, anxious knocks. "Come in."

The boy stepped in, grimacing as if someone had just screamed in his face.

"What has you so riled up?"

"Master Renard is without, my lord. He wants to see you. Says it's a matter of utmost urgency."

Gerald pressed his lips. He didn't expect the moment to come now, but no one would wait for him. "Let him in."

A moment and his minister of the left entered wearing a triumphant smirk, akin to a trainee who'd sunk his first ever arrow in the archery target. "The Duke sends his regards to the Viscount."

Renard's words made everyone in the study frown except himself. He widened his smile and bowed slightly. "The Duke has sent word, my lord."

"And you speak for him?" Gerald cocked his head, his two hands resting on the table.

"Indeed I do," Renard nodded, producing a small piece of parchment rolled tight enough to be carried by a bird.

"I seem to forget," Gerald chortled. "Whose minister are you?"

"Let's forsake the jests, your lordship," Renard tilted his head with a feigned kind smile. "Every man in this room knows who I serve. You have not neglected to mention it several times yourself in recent times. I know who I serve, and I will serve well. I hope you will listen to the Duke's demands."

Gerald abandoned his smile and sharpened his gaze, waiting for Renard's words.

"The Duke demands that your lordship maintain the roads and prepare them for northward trade," Renard began, clearing his throat and raising his chin in the middle of his speech. "The Duke demands that you allow no trade to pass unto lands other than his own. That is to not allow the merchants to venture into Count Herwald's territory." Renard met Gerald's eyes and narrowed his own in a deep smile. "The Duke demands that you adhere to his arrangements for the toll of passage. He will set his toll first, and then you may set yours."

Gerald's mouth twitched, while Robard was already red with fury. Arthur wore a helpless expression, glancing at him as if in pity.

"I'm afraid trade will have to be delayed," Gerald said. "There are still bandits to the north. A crew still stands. My men have just informed me of this matter."

Renard chuckled, swinging his shoulders with his laughter as if he'd just heard the finest jest. "Surely, surely, you don't intend to fool your good minister here, your lordship. I presume you're speaking of the crew under your command? Perhaps you should command them to remove themselves?" He laughed again.

Gerald's face fell. It was a weak attempt, but he was hoping to earn himself some time with it. He'd known very well that it was likely for Renard to be already aware of his command over Gasper's crew.

"I wonder why your lordship would play such games with the Duke," Renard shook his head, feigning helplessness. "Could it be that you care not for the well-being of your gentle sister? Oh, what a tragedy would it be should any harm come to her."

"Know your place!" Robard yelled, his grip tightening on his sheathed sword.

Gerald's teeth were gritted for the second time today. This time grinding against each other. But outside, there was a smile. One which a man would spare for a dear friend of his. He extended his hand to receive the short letter. "I will adhere to the Duke's demands. I wouldn't want to ruin the goodwill between us, after all."

Renard nodded and handed him the letter. "That is most wise of your lordship."

"You may leave," Gerald said. He watched as the Duke's rat left the study. A painful knife jabbed his heart as he remembered Lena with her sweet smile. It was difficult to describe, why he cared for her. More than anything else, he believed her to be the only person aside from Uncle Rudolf to truly care for him from the heart. In a city of enemies, she was the one flicker that kept him hoping. Hoping that he would see her today, tomorrow, or the day after that. Those were his thoughts often when he lived in Malfi city.

There was no consolation like that which he received from her after each bout of humiliation he'd received in that palace. Uncle Rudolf would teach him while she would soothe him with a kind smile.

He read the letter, a silent determination in his heart. He would bring her back someday. The Duke's most important demand was for his toll to be set first before the Viscounty's. While that would sound simple to a commoner, it meant a lot, specially with the trade route limited to the Duke's lands only. The Duke would set a very high toll, while the Viscounty would be forced to set a very low toll so as not to drive away the merchants. No trader would pay a toll higher than their profit, after all. Gerald estimated that the toll his territory was going to collect would hardly be enough to even maintain the road from the southern pass to the northern pass. But he couldn't halt the trade for any reason now; otherwise, the Duke might vent his anger on Lena

He rested the letter on the table and glanced at the half-open door through which Renard had left, remembering his veiled threat. The feeling it brought him was a blend of weakness and loathsome pity for himself. He looked at Arthur. "Did my father have to live with this?"

"Every day and every night."

"I want to visit him."