S01E16 - Drums of War

17th Day of the Bull

*****

“You have a new what?” Tracy said, standing in the doorway. Paige and Dinah crowded the doorway behind her.

Have I mentioned that I have unhealthy coping mechanisms? I’m certain I have. One of them is to become the ‘Snooty Professor’, a persona who is unflappable, presenting facts and evidence in a cut and dried manner. I like to think of it as a temporary emotional lobotomy which allows me to manage a situation and then overthink it later.

“A lover,” I replied, spearing a slice of roast-something and dragging it to my plate. “A paramour. A girlfriend. A significant other. My inamorata.”

Tracy pulled up a chair and the other girls followed. Yvonne had returned from her vigil at the Temple of Avelan and was dressed in a white cassock with gold trim and a eight-pointed sunburst above her left breast. A large amulet emblazoned with the holy symbol of the Lady, three unequal spirals forming a distorted triskelion, hung from her neck.

“A paramour?” Tracy said, folding her hands under her chin and smiling sweetly. “You’ve been married sometime in the last week and are having an illicit affair behind your wife’s back? That’s quite out of character for you.”

“I suppose you’re right,” I conceded, stabbing the roast-something and slicing it viciously. “Paramour does have something of a negative connotation. Lover will do nicely.”

The other girls were watching the live reality show with great interest, making me even more uncomfortable.

“Would you mind introducing me to your new lover?” She said, directing her attention to Ryllae.

And now I’m cornered. Everything I know about Ryllae would fit in a matchbox, and I wouldn’t even need to remove the matches.

“Tracy, this is Ryllae,” I said. “Ryllae, this is my daughter Tracy, and her friends Dinah, Paige, and Yvonne.”

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance,” Ryllae said, gracefully dipping her head to Tracy and the other girls.

“Likewise,” Tracy replied. “Are you an Elf?”

Ryllae nodded. “I am,” she said.

“How old are you?” Tracy asked.

“Seventeen.”

I could hear blood rushing in my ears as my heart thumped so loud it drowned out every other noise in the now silent room.

“You’re seventeen!?” Tracy and I yelled at the same time.

“According to the Alefin calendar,” She said. “Our world has longer days and years than Avelan. I would be nearly twenty-four years measured by the calendar of Humans.”

I did some quick calculations in my head. Avelan had a year that was just slightly longer than Earth’s, so Ryllae was actually a bit older than twenty-four, but not by much. It wasn’t any relief at all.

“My father is dating an Elf half his age,” Tracy muttered loudly, staring at me like I was a particularly curious bug. “He couldn’t find a normal elf who is old enough to be my great-great-great-grandmother, oh no, he runs up to the maternity ward and snatches the first baby he finds.”

“Half your age?” Ryllae asked, looking at me. “How old are you?”

“Forty-six,” I said. “The Avelan calendar is a bit longer than Earth’s, so I suppose I would be around forty-three or so here.”

“So you would be twenty-eight as measured by Alefin,” Ryllae said, favouring me with a smile. “That is a good age for my first lover. It makes me happy.”

The rest of lunch was short, silent, and ominous.

*****

I had promised Brice I would take care of the paperwork required for his expense reports, and Colin came to fetch me shortly before we were finished lunch. I reluctantly left Ryllae and Tracy at the lunch table, smiling at one another like tigers.

We left the west wing of the palace, following a rich argent and blue carpet to the main section where guests and visitors were welcomed and entertained in lavish fashion. A wood panel set behind the stairs led to the servant’s area, an inner maze of rooms and passages set in the walls of the palace. Narrow corridors of wood paneling turned at strange angles, dimly echoing the richly furnished rooms and apartments that lay on the other side of their unadorned walls.

“Lot of tension in the air,” Colin said nonchalantly as we walked towards the steward’s office.

I puffed out my cheeks and blew air in a long sigh. “Maybe a little,” I admitted.

He snorted. “I’ve felt less tension when being stalked by tigers on the grasslands of Wigtony. Does Hirui Tracy not approve of Alefin Ryllae?” he asked.

“She’s seventeen,” I blurted out. “In Elfish years. She’s half my age. That makes things awkward for everyone.” Except Ryllae, I thought to myself.

“I’m not sure I see the problem,” He said, genuinely puzzled. “Elfish ways are different, but even so, it’s not uncommon for a young woman to court an older, established man, or for an older man to take a younger wife or two once he’s established lineage.”

“It is where I come from,” I said, aggravated at the whole situation. “She could be Tracy’s older sister.”

“I still don’t see the problem.” Colin said. “Would you have been happier if she was twice your age?”

I thought about it, running it around my head. At what point did age become meaningless? On Earth, research into anti-ageing drugs was advancing rapidly and in another century it might not be uncommon to have couples who were decades apart in age. Obviously age was a legitimate concern when a child was taken advantage of by an adult, but in lives measured in centuries, who is an adult? Is a 460 year old man taking advantage of a 230 year old woman? What about a 920 year old woman and a 46 year old man? At what point do the years become meaningless?

Sometime after the first century, I suppose. Humans can’t really grasp living that long, so a 150 year old sleeping with an 70 year old is more of a squicky-image problem than an reason to call someone a molester.

“How would you feel if your girlfriend was a couple decades older than you?” I asked.

“Does she look my age?” he asked without hesitation.

“Nevermind,” I said.

Colin stopped before a plain door with a small brass plaque attached to the honey-coloured wood. Knocking twice, he opened it and waved me in.

Brice and a stern faced older gentleman were sitting at opposing ends of a desk, a small mound of paperwork between them. The older man looked at me over the top of his pince-nez, fixing me with an accusatory stare. I am the culprit he’s been seeking, I thought. The rascal who tossed his books out of balance.

“Magus Samuel,” he said with a voice as stiff and polished as the walls around us, “I am Walter Thorne, steward of His Majesty. Please pull up a chair.”

I grabbed a chair and sat next to Brice, regarding Walter from across the desk. A wiry goatee matched the grey hair that poked from under a soft maroon cap covering most of his head. Crows feet gathered around sharp green eyes that had fought mountains of numbers and his fingers were stained with the inky black of their blood. For a brief moment I felt like a schoolboy who had been caught in some mischief and was now facing authority. I shook it off and grabbed for control of the situation.

“I’m glad we finally have a moment to discuss wages,” I said. “I was worried that I was going to get the run around.”

“There will be no wages,” he said with the tone of a mortician closing a casket.

“Then we have nothing to discuss,” I said, rising. “Brice, my wards and I will need an escort out of the palace. Tell His Majesty we will be heading to the Treian empire to seek our fortunes.”

“Sit down!” Walter barked, slapping a hand on the desk.

“No!” I barked back. “I don’t work for free. I’m not a slave and neither are my wards!”

“It is an honour to be summoned to serve His Majesty,” Walter countered. “You should be grateful for the experience!”

“I don’t work for free,” I repeated, leaning over the desk and dropping my voice to a low growl. “And I don’t do charity work for the rich. End of discussion, Walter! If you want our services, you can hire us.”

We stared at each other, waiting for the other to blink first.

“What did you have in mind?” he said through gritted teeth.

“Twice your salary for each of us,” I replied, watching him suck air through his teeth. “In advance.”

Walter sputtered and choked on the protest in his throat. “In advance!?” he roared, rising from his chair. “You want payment in advance?”

“Of course!” I retorted. “Once the demon queen is defeated, me and my wards vanish into thin air leaving everything behind, including the money. You could promise me the treasury and it wouldn’t matter because we’re not going to be around to claim it! I don’t understand why you have a problem paying me a salary when you’re going to get it all back.”

He thumped back down in his chair.

“You raise a good point,” he said after a moment. “It’s a symbolic gesture, isn’t it?”

“You can think of it like that, yes,” I said. “We’ll still spend it as we please. The girls will buy dresses and ribbons, I’ll buy drinks and pipe tobacco. I doubt that we’ll spend that much while we’re here.”

“And,” I said, twisting the knife victoriously. “It’s less paperwork for you. You have one account to manage instead of mounds of paperwork for every individual purchase. You really don’t want to deal with thousands of tiny little purchases over the next few months, do you?”

Walter muttered and stroked his goatee. “As a symbolic gesture… Yes, Magus Samuel, I can agree to that.”

“Good,” I said, still smiling as I sat back in the chair. “Let’s discuss where to deposit it and an expense account for purchasing items strictly necessary for the kingdoms welfare.”

Walter pulled out more paperwork and ground his teeth.

*****

“It’s fifty silver to the gold,” Brice said as we walked back through the narrow passageways, dodging the occasional servant. “And you have fifteen thousand gold for a yearly salary.”

“I have a three thousand per year,” I corrected. “And so do the girls. Along with nice benefits package and severance package. So what can that buy me?”

Colin let out a low whistle. “I can’t even imagine,” he said. “I earn 40 gold a year. That’s a lifetime of money and more.”

“I’ll be buying all the drinks from now on,” I said with a smile. “The first thing to do is deposit it in a bank or trust and find an estate manager.

“You’ll need to make arrangements quickly,” Brice said, looking around. “General Vassellard plans to send us to Mirador by weeks end.”

Ice water ran in my guts. “What do you know?”

“There’s a briefing scheduled tomorrow,” He said. “All the heroes are to attend, along with the support units. Rumour has it that the plan is to ship out on the 19th and arrive in Mirador three days later.”

“Will you guys be coming?” I asked.

“We’ve been given permission to attend you because you’re a squishy mage.” Colin said grinning. “The girls will have a detachment of a dozen guards to support them.”

I made a mental note to ask some questions about Corporal Shaw.

*****

Author’s Note: This episode ended up being bigger than I expected and started dragging into the time allotted for the next one, so I’ve cut it in half to maintain the posting schedule.

Completion date: 06DEC2019

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