Chapter 18

The Four Houses

"I've seen the lakes of boiling fire, and I've seen rivers bathed in pure amber. In the midst of shadows, a sprinkle of Light begot – alive. Alive. Alive."

Forgotten Histories, Vol. III

As he was promised, a thousand Crowns indeed did arrive – making up a total of 1,700 which, Noah estimated, would be just enough to slowly start building up the bank. However, for a moment, he set the money aside and focused on studying, something he’s been doing so much he finally understood how it felt to go to school. Names, faces, alliances, armies, lands, counties, duchies… the Absolute Monarchy that he was promised seemed less and less so, and instead painted a complex picture of feudal promise-bound relationships united via the shimmering crown.

The main players in the pictures were undoubtedly the four duchies, only one of which he was certain was completely loyal to the Crown – and, as luck would have it, it was the one with the most land, with the largest army, and was headed by the Kingdom’s greatest fighter, someone that even the Lightbringer of the Principality, at least according to the texts, is wary of – Advell Drath, the Grand Duke of Lumina. The Drath House was the first to submit to the Crown all the way back during the First Conquests and had remained loyal ever since.

It occupied the harsh, northern borders of the Kingdom, protecting it from the bands of thieves and raiders descending from the Jagged Mountains, as well as the nomadic clans occupying the northern plains. Save for the short opening to the south called the Silent Crossing, Lumina Kingdom was entirely surrounded by the natural barriers – Mortus Mountains to the south-west, Darkwoods and Dark Mountains to the east and south – however, only North-West was completely open, blending into the Nomadic Plains to the west.

The Drath House is responsible exactly for this part – the grand opening, the inviting hands of the Kingdom. The second-largest house, House Myrsell, appeared less obvious in their support, but still largely aided the Crown; headed by the 'Daughter of Gold', Sylene Myrsell, it is the only house among the Duchies headed by a Duchess. They were responsible for defending the south, namely the Silent Crossing – a three hundred feet wide river and eighteen miles long crossing of the Sumnner’s River, the main artery of the Kingdom.

The third-largest house, house Revvor, headed by Ikov Revvor, ruled over the far east, as far as the Darkwoods. As there was the massive range, Blackstone Mountains Range, virtually cradling Lumina Kingdom to the east, there was less defending, and more relaxing for them; however, alongside Myrsells, they were partly responsible for maintaining and defending Port Wevvas, the solitary point through which the Kingdom meets the 'outside world' via the accidental visits of the merchant, or even pirate, ships.

The smallest of the Duchies belonged to the Duke Godwind of the House Fyrost, the youngest of the Four Great Houses – they were largely situated within and around the capital city itself, acting as the main army in case of the sudden invasion. If the text of whatever author was to go by, Noah mused, it was only a matter of time until the ‘sulk-looking but sly-hearted Duke’ usurped the throne. However, Noah had a different picture of the entire situation; the Drath House was certainly loyal to the crown as numerous Princes and Princesses over the generations have married into it, but he genuinely believed that the House Fyrost held nearly as much loyalty. This was in part due to how the Fyrosts made their money in comparison to the other Grand Houses; they were the only ones being paid directly by the Crown and held no personal establishments like other houses. For instance, Draths had the monopoly on winemaking across the Kingdom, Myrsells were responsible for importing the ‘exotic goods’ through the Port Wevvas, while the Revvor’s had a complete chokehold on the Kingdom’s source of food as the land between the Weepwoods and the Darkwoods was the most fertile.

Fyrosts, on the other hand, were paid to maintain order within and around the capital and were responsible for training the local militia, and even integration of the best recruits into the army. They, naturally, had their own stores and such – but nothing that was able to make nearly as much money as the other houses.

Olivia had mentioned both Duke Godwind and one of his sons, Ludwig, once or twice, a clear sense of disdain present in her voice. However, unlike her, Noah saw them as the definite allies – or, better yet, the very first, major customers of his future bank. It was in human nature to chase after wealth; once the wealth is obtained, there is a tendency to chase status and privilege – something that the Fyrosts, undoubtedly, were thirsty for. As the youngest house, they had the least history and the weakest connection with the O’vorell Dynasty, as well as the shallowest coffers. As means of showcasing their status, Noah had no doubt they’d be willing to borrow tens of thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of Crowns – he only, first, had to make as much as they could swallow.

For the time being, he decided not to touch the Drath House at all – however much praise was ushered within not just this text, but countless others he’d read, he actually learned very little of them. He knew that the main family consisted of five members – Advell, Wyveen, the Grand Duchess, and their three children – Lyndo, Freya, and Orella. Grand Duke Advell was also, officially, the Chief Commander of the army, while his son, Lyndo, was Lord of the Blackstone Castle.

As far as the logistics of their wealth go, there was really nothing; they were powerful, loyal, and very awesome – that was effectively what he learned.

Sighing, he put the book away and rubbed his temples. He was not new to having to constantly readjust his plans and shift pieces around, but he had completely misinterpreted the nature of court within the Lumina Kingdom. He partly blamed Olivia, but she was a Princess raised with the belief that she is the power – and while probably knowing that wasn’t the exact truth, in her mind, this was still the Absolute Theocratic Monarchy. What was it in reality? A mess.

Besides the Four Great Houses, there were also dozens of merchant houses holding a taut grip on the Kingdom's economy, then there was the Principality, and even several 'independent' houses that were 'leasing' the land from the Crown – like Roysteers, deserters of the Folkfar Kingdom. Nobody here had absolute power, and the question really was who had any power. The King – Noah had deemed that to be the case during the meeting. He was respected greatly, and bar going insane and ordering to burn down the city, chances are that everyone would listen to his decree. His children, however? Little. Very, very little. Even Evon, the Eldest Prince, Noah suspected, had less than the merchant houses, to say nothing of the Dukedoms.

Olivia? She didn't even register on the map. She may be liked and loved, but that doesn't afford anyone powers over anything. For the first time, he was ecstatically happy that there would be a Holy War – as the powers would be shaken up tremendously, which would be her moment to slowly begin crawling up. There was one certainty in that future – he couldn't officially ally with anyone. He couldn't depend on anyone. He’d have to make for her an army out of nothing, coffers so deep they would never be outmatched – also from virtually nothing – and craft an image of her that would effectively be a projection of a goddess upon the Kingdom. She couldn’t just be respected like the current King – she will have to be worshiped. If she said to set the Lumina on fire, people should set it on fire and laugh doing it.

It was not impossible, however, Noah knew. While politically it might be a chaotic mess, he thrived in those situations – and while it was a bit too messy to do it comfortably, it was well within the realms of possibility. He already had a rough draft of the three years that Oliva told him were left until the King’s retirement and the beginning of the Holy War. They couldn’t waste them just on funneling Crowns as that was more of a passive rather than an active process.

In the meantime, she would have to start attending the Principality regularly – he would give her five years to rise up to the rank of the Lightbearer, second only to the Lightbringer. During the war, she would not voice her support for any of the warring factions – instead, she would go around the battlefields and attend to the wounded soldiers. She would have to plant herself into the hearts of both ordinary and the blooded citizens of the Kingdom – as a saint-like creature, no less.

Sighing audibly, he got up from the chair and stretched, walking over to the small protrusion outside the walls, a balcony, leaning over the fence and letting the wind caress his cheeks. The Light… the political situation… the lack of knowledge on the surrounding Kingdoms and the world at large… odds kept being stacked against him, he realized. He found himself missing the Earth, sitting in the perennial outpour, dug into the dirt, waiting days upon days for a perfect chance to strike. He missed spending months in the dusty basements, planning everything to the best of his abilities. All the while, there was a sense of certainty there – he was never fearful of failure. Nature of men was easy to bend and to break, but the concepts were a different thing; the reason why the Absolute Theocratic Monarchy would have been a much easier reality was specifically due to that – the concepts hinged on the nature of men, or rather, a man or a woman sitting at the very top.

The reality, however, was unhinged. Tender, linen lines dotted left and right and in loops, creating an incomprehensible web. He would never be able to know everything, no matter how long he waited and researched. He couldn’t buy truths as he could on Earth – not for the lack of money, but due to the shift in the concept. People both here and on Earth were, in principle, the same; greedy, self-centered, selfish, collectivist, tribal. However, bonds in the free world that was Earth were loose and, at best, shallow. It wasn’t hard to approach the President’s first aide and either buy them or blackmail them. Here? He knew he stood no chance of buying out any of the Dukes, and even less so the Princes and Princesses, or even Dacents of the Royalty and Nobility. The Light was the issue – it had a taut hold on the people’s hearts. And its doctrine ran even deeper than any of the holy books back on Earth.

His short seance of thoughts was interrupted by a soft knock on the door. Turning around, he saw a figure slowly walk in, hunched slightly. One of her sleeves hung loose, an entire arm missing, her light-brown hair tied neatly into a tail, a stark contrast to the disheveled mess she was when Noah first met her. A pair of brown eyes still stared at him with caution, though she’d dropped her guard considerably around him – which Noah attributed to never asking her to visit him during the night.

“My Lord,” Myrell spoke softly, bowing. “Syl told me you were looking for me.”

“Hm,” Noah nodded, pointing at a table to his right, tucked into the wall’s corner, stacked with several jeweled bottles of alcohol that he had purchased almost immediately upon receiving funds. “I wanted to ask you how everything is going.”

“Very well,” Myrell, after a brief hesitation, joined him and sat down, accepting the glass of wine but not drinking it. “The rumors have slowly begun spreading of the Amber Bank,” she continued. “Especially in the neighborhoods where we’re assigned. However, we have attracted some… curious eyes.”

"… you can withdraw, then," Noah said after brief thought. "Hiring guards would be too eye-catchy still. Move down to the lower reaches, and join various crafts' guilds. Don't be too open about it – merely inject it into a conversation from time to time."

“Yes, my Lord.” Myrell nodded. “I shall inform the rest.”

“Hm,” Noah nodded. “In case there are some that are interested already, I allow you to loan as much as twenty-five Crowns per person.” He added, handing her a sash of two hundred Crowns. Myrell immediately began shaking her head, rejecting it.

“M-My Lord, p-please, that is far too much money—”

“Will you steal it and run off?”

“W-what? No! Of course not!”

"Then everything is alright," Noah said, smiling gently. "Don't loan everything at once, however. Let us test waters with a few first before moving forward. If anyone defaults on their payments, write down their names, where they live, and their habits."

“… y-yes.” Myrell accepted the sash, at last, with shaky hands, staring at the small, brown satchel with a look of fear. The most she held before in her hands was barely twenty Crowns that she saved after nearly a decade of selling herself, yet, now, she held ten times the amount. A lifetime worth of savings for a prostitute.

“You can go now.”

"Yes, my Lord." She decided not to think about her Lord's request in case someone decided not to pay back. Myrell had met plenty of people in her life, and while she was certain the Lord was a decent person, she was just as certain he was not a saint. While she couldn’t pinpoint the reasons behind this venture, or even the venture itself – as even with repeated explanations, she only latched onto the basics related to her part of the job – it wasn’t out of the goodness of his heart. Whatever happened to those who rejected to pay, was beyond her right to think upon.

The first part of his plan was in the motion, Noah mused. Following his outburst during the meeting in the Grand Hall, he withdrew from the public and barely left his room. He told Olivia to tell whoever looked for him that he was reflecting and studying, which seemed good enough of a reason to keep everyone out. Well, except for one, specific individual who had made it his habit to visit daily – and, as was the case yesterday, and the day before, Quickett showed up knocking right after the midday, still dressed in his ridiculous clothes.

Today, he added a few sets of bells to his getup, ones that hardly made pleasing sounds and ones that nearly made Noah sault him over the balcony.

“Ah, Dear Dacent~~ if you’d permit me, I’d move in here with you. In the days of utter boredom, you are my solitary source of joy.” He clamored immediately upon entering while Noah immediately reached for a bottle of ale and started drinking. He didn’t put up with the strange jester just for the hell of it, however – the quirky man knew exactly what he was doing, providing at least one or two bits of important information to Noah during each of his visits, ensuring he could show up the next day as well.

“And if you indeed did move in,” Noah said. “I’d have no other choice but to kill myself and haunt you till the end of the days.”

“Ah, dear Dacent, do not joke like so; ghosts are scary things, very, very scary things,” Quickett said, smiling somewhat bitterly as he sat down opposite of Noah, in the corner. “Do you know that Earl Merr’s first daughter was driven to madness by ghosts? At the age of fifteen, she woke up deep in the night, screaming, grabbed a kitchen knife, and stabbed four maids dead before she was restrained. It is the House’s greatest shame to date.”

“…” Sounds more like a loony to me than someone haunted by ghosts… Noah rolled his eyes inwardly but chose not to comment. Death was viewed perhaps even more complicatedly here than on Earth. While countless cultures back on Earth had countless rituals surrounding death, departure, burials, and so on, things were even wilder here as far as he could tell. For instance, Royal Tombs were chained in Light-purified steel and were opened only for five minutes each time a member of the Royal Family dies. And, whoever carries the coffins into the Tomb, is killed upon exiting… and then burned. And that's just one of the hundreds of eerie and weird rituals permeating the Kingdom. "Is she alive still?" Noah asked.

“… ah? Yes. Why do you ask?” Quickett said, taking a sip of wine.

“I don’t know – she sounds perfect for you, Quickett. If I were you, I’d give up this silly career of the jester and pursue the vestiges of heart.”

“… ha ha ha, she may as well be, dear Dacent,” Quickett laughed for a moment. “But, I’m afraid even if I became a Lord myself, even the mad Lady Teresa would be an impossible task for me.”

“Mad? Isn’t she haunted?” Noah smiled wryly for a moment, noticing Quickett’s red-painted eyebrows twitch for a moment.

“I’d hope you’d keep my suspicions a secret, dear Dacent; Merrs have a… rather odd way of going about the rumors that she is mad.”

"I am assuming it involves the creation of many more ghosts, no?"

“… you really do not hold back,” Quickett chuckled. “I’ve conversed plenty with other Dacents here, and while many know far more than you, and are perhaps smarter than you, none quite… live up to the title.”

“… because you have just essentially called me stupid,” Noah said. “I request you answer me a question as a form of apology.”

“… very well,” Quickett grinned emptily, taking another sip of wine and leaning further back into the chair. “I suppose you’ve deserved it.”

“… Fyrosts or Myrsells,” Noah said. “Who do you pin to be more loyal to the Crown?”

“…” Quickett’s hands paused as he tried bringing the glass of wine to his lips, shaking temporarily. The look in his eyes shifted for a moment before he forced a smile on his face. “You jest, dear Dacent. All Houses in the Kingdom are unquestionably loyal to the Holy One. The Light itself would purge them if they were not.”

“… the way I see it,” Noah purposefully ignored Quickett’s hint to drop the topic and pushed. The jester may be quick-witted and knowledgeable, and he may have no allegiance to any of the Houses, but, for one reason or another, he seemed incredibly afraid of discussing the topic – this intrigued Noah far more than the position of loyalty. “It has to be House Fyrost. From the records, it seemed that the last time even a ward of Myrsells attended any of the Courtly Meetings was over a decade ago. Fyrosts, on the other hand, maintain the seat of power and earn their coffers directly from the Crown itself. Coin, rather than a symbol, is a way to loyalty. But, I could be wrong, of course. Just the silent musings of a bored mind, after all."

“…” Quickett’s smile vanished in lieu of a frown as he met Noah’s eyes squarely. The jester was well aware the strange Dacent was trying to pry something from him, but he couldn’t quite understand what exactly so to avoid giving it away. It was a gamble, as far as he was concerned. “I like you very much, dear Dacent – and, because of my liking toward you, I will give you the best advice you will ever hear within these halls.”

“…”

“Standing out is how the pretty head flies off,” Quickett said. “That was twice, now. Few get one, even fewer two… and nobody is allowed third.”

“…” Noah remained placid of a moment before grinning strangely, leaning forward and tapping Quickett’s forehead with a finger. "Ask yourself this, little jester – who holds the most power in the world? The silent, the loud, the strong, the wealthy, the clever, or the cruel? You know plenty, yet still prance the halls as the Court's joke, laughed at by people far stupider than you. On your grave, it will read 'the man who knew everything, and did nothing'. Your heart dances left and right, it seems; you want something, something that is just within the reach, yet so far away. Rather than preaching to me the ways of the courtly walls, better pray I never find what it is that you want, jester.”

“…” Quickett merely smiled, taking another sip of the wine as he calmed. “Threats? I hardly took you for the like, dear Dacent.”

“…” Noah grinned wider, withdrawing, his blue eyes shimmering like daggers, causing Quickett’s heart to skip a beat. “What have Myrsells promised you, Quickett? Some exotic fruit? Wine? A prostitute from beyond the seas?” Quickett’s calm demeanor slowly began cracking. "Whichever it may be, it is a good gamble. I wonder what you told them of me; perhaps just a passing name, and perhaps you've let your boy's crush slip into the words. I do wish indeed to find out the virtue of your poesy if you'd indulge me."

“… I was mistaken, it seems,” Quickett said, taking another sip of the wine and getting up. “What do you want to know?”

“…” Noah stayed silent, staring emptily at the standing jester whose folly countenance had completely disappeared, replaced by a serious and rather dark one. It seemed that, were he confident in it, he might have already lunged and tried to kill him.

“They aren’t interested in the Princes and Princesses,” Quickett said. “Contrary to your thoughts, they are very loyal. I was tasked with simply looking over Duke Godwind’s actions, and reporting anything strange I’ve discovered. They are not your enemies, Dacent – and neither was I. If anything, it is the opposite.”

“… everyone’s my enemy, dear jester,” Noah chuckled, rising a cup and toasting to the air. “Even the reflection in the mirror.”

“… that is a sad life, then.” Quickett said.

“There is no reason, however, we still can’t be friends.” Noah chuckled.

"… then it is either that your ego has no bounds or your stupidity."

“… I believe that the best, the strongest, and the longest relationships aren’t forged through hearts and minds, jester,” Noah said, getting up and walking over to his working desk. “Those are like a flash in the pan – as bright as the dying star, but just as deadly. And short-lived. You need not love me or like me, as I need not love you or like you or even tolerate you, for us to be friends. We merely need to have a goal in common. Something that binds us in the silent trust.”

“… and we have nothing of the sort.” Quickett said emptily.

“… perhaps,” Noah chuckled, taking a few parchments from his desk and walking over toward Quickett, handing them. “But, you are a danger to me and, more importantly, to our Princess. An unhinged danger, no less, now that I’ve burned the bridge between us. I could kill you, but the headache of trying to clean everything up and keep it hidden is not worth the trouble. In reality, I do appreciate your wit. Among the tiring, dull masses, however annoying you may be, you can be just as useful. I hardly care for your relationship with Myrsells; what I care for is how it impacts me.”

“It doesn’t.” Quickett said, taking the parchments from Noah though not looking at them, maintaining the locked gaze.

“Oh, but it does; you see, they are guarding something I find very… tempting,” Noah said, sitting down calmly, resuming drinking. “And, from the sounds of it, they are very keen on doing something during the Holy War that would make Fyrosts… ah, let’s just say less prominent. I can’t afford that.”

“… you are in bed with them, then?” Quickett scoffed. “Wrong bed you’ve chosen, then. They are hardly the likes worth befriending.”

“In bed with them? No,” Noah shook his head. “I am only ever in bed with myself, I’m afraid. So lonely it can get sometimes. But, I digress. On those parchments, I’ve written down some inquiries I want you to find for me.”

“If you think—”

“If you refuse,” Noah said, his voice suddenly dropping an octave lower, eyes turning void of emotion. “I will kill you right now.”

“…” words got stuck inside Quickett’s throat – just a moment ago, the strange Dacent was just an ordinary, older man draped in scholarly robes – now, however, he was a sword about to be unsheathed. The jester knew, from the bottom of his soul, that if he indeed rejected, he would die – right here and now. Years of experience as both the jester and a soldier had been cast into his veins and into his heart, and both were screaming at him right now – warning him of danger. It hardly dawned on him to lie, to accept, and then find a way to deal with the man later on. No, his mind couldn't afford the power to think about it in lieu of the danger he was facing.

“And I really don’t want to kill you,” Noah said. “Because I think we can benefit each other greatly, Quickett. Tell you what – I’ll throw you a bone. Tell me. What are Myrsells offering you? Even if it’s the sun itself, I’ll procure it for you within a month.”

“… a woman.” Quickett uttered absentmindedly, not even realizing itself.

“Eh? Really?” Noah exclaimed in surprise, somewhat shocked. “So I was right? A prostitute from beyond the seas?”

“… no,” Quickett reeled back in and sighed – everything was out in the open right now. He may as well take a gamble and hope for the best. “I’ve told you I became a jester three years ago, no?”

“Hm.”

“Before that,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I used to be a soldier. Hardly someone of status and skill, but a soldier nonetheless. One day, I was tasked with escorting Lady Claire to the Port Wevvas. Over the year-long journey, we’ve gotten close. Fell in love.”

“…” Noah listened patiently, gears in his mind working over how to exploit this connection in the future.

“We figured that her parents wouldn’t mind,” Quickett said. “As she had two older Brothers who would inherit the position, so, upon the return to her home, we came forward together and confessed what happened. I was thrown into the dungeons for six months, while Claire was locked inside her room for the same amount. Apparently, they were considering executing both of us due to the transgression of a common soldier courting a Lady, but Lord Sunnder, the eldest son, suggested a compromise – I’d be sent to the capital to spy on the Fyrosts, while Claire would be under the house arrest. As long as I continued my duties as a spy, she would live, and so would I. So… I continued my duties, for three years now.”

“… it’s remarkable,” Noah sighed, shaking his head. “How love can cripple even the wittiest of minds.”

“…” Quickett frowned but said nothing, merely glaring hatefully at Noah for a moment who merely chuckled.

“Don’t get me wrong; I admire your resilience, and her volatile will and naivety to think something like this wouldn’t happen, but, among the hundreds of choices you two had, you literally chose the stupidest one possible. And, now, you are paying the price.”

“…”

"As I promised, though," Noah added, deciding not to push the jester any further as he seemed half a wit away from losing it. "I will have her here, for you, within at most two months, and most-likely within one."

“How? Even if the Princess herself requests it, Myrells can simply stall or even outright refuse if she pushes too hard.”

"Princess? Why would I need Princess's help with something so silly?" Noah chuckled. "Tell me, jester, why do you think they were so mad at the two of you? Is it because they hate the concept of youthful love?”

“I—”

"You wasted a great political tool," Noah said. "Young, fertile Lady of one of the Four Great Houses, even if she holds no power within her own family, is worth tens of thousands of crowns as a tool, Quickett. And you broke that tool; who of importance would want a Lady soiled by a common soldier?”

“We never… we never…”

“It doesn’t matter,” Noah said. “For all intents and purposes, you have fucked her from dusk till dawn, for months on end. Now, they have this broken, useless tool whose only value is tied to you. What if, all of a sudden, that tool gained importance?”

“…”

"Take care of the inquires," Noah smiled faintly, pointing at the parchments. "It shouldn't be too difficult for you. I'll have Lady Claire in your hands by the month's end, or two. As for how you go about things afterward, I do hope you will be smarter about it this time around than the last. However," he warned. "I will not bring her to you if she doesn’t want it.”

“Really?” Quickett smiled bitterly. “That is where you draw the ethical line?”

“… monetary line,” Noah chuckled. “While it is true that I find this sort of treatment of women deplorable, I am not on a saintly mission to be their knight of justice. To me, just like you, she is a tool – but she only functions as one so long as she is tied to you. Otherwise, she is as useless as the roadside weed. Go, now. Don’t come looking for me until you have answers to my inquires. Otherwise, I’ll find you.”

Noah watched the jester leave silently, deliberating on his options. There were two general possibilities at hand – Lady Claire is very much dead, and has been dead for three years, simply being used as a way to control Quickett. Unfortunately, this was very much a real possibility, which would put a strain on Noah’s plans to control the jester. The other possibility was that she was indeed alive; getting her out wouldn’t be too difficult, he wagered. Myrsells seemed keenly interested in the otherworldly, exotic things, and those… those he had. Naturally, he couldn’t act the role of a Dacent in the matter, but he could act the role of a mysterious collector and merchant who's interested in forging a good relationship with Myrsells.

"It looks like," he muttered, sighing. "I'm due for some traveling…"