Lady Eloise Jennet Maron was highborn. That was the extent of the knowledge my limited investigations had uncovered. As a yet to be ratified countess, she was still in a position that held no little prestige. Nobles did not make clandestine deal with their peers’ face to face. Though the discussions I had planned were not strictly illicit, it would have been… improper for her to oversee them physically. This was the duty of stewards and clerks. But there she was, climbing out of a hackney alone. I panicked for a moment then rushed downstairs. Confused looks from my fellows followed me down the staircase. I had just broken the rehearsed performance I had so strictly insisted upon.

How did I know who the woman was without ever meeting her prior? It is obvious if you have ever met a highborn. Describing it in words is difficult without experiencing it yourself. Most highborn have a certain magnetism to them. I was struck by its full force when I met her downstairs. She was beautiful. What is there to say? The highborn are like that, they are something else apart from us all. I am proud to say that I recovered swiftly from my stupefaction. Seamlessly donning a professional mask, I went to greet the new arrival.

She was alone and she cause quite the stir. Perhaps her arrival was in response to my unorthodox method of contact. Her amber eyes almost seemed alight with vivacity. When they landed on me, I felt my mouth go dry. I lost my rallied composure. It was my first time meeting a highborn other than Lord Cedric. Despite their shared ‘breeding’ they were entirely different animals. The scions of house Averntide were giants who had the blood of einherjar flowing through them. Their size would lead you to think that they were slow and cumbersome. Yet there was an air of immediate danger to them. A promise of swift and terrible violence that belayed perceptions. I had seen many of such men in my short years. None that had the sheer violent potential Lord Cedric. However, I was well seasoned when I met him. It was in my nature to meet danger with defiance.

The lady was something I had no experience in dealing with. She was something else. Something beyond what nature and artifice could achieve. I once heard a magus try to explain it. Something about a mathematical ratio of features, a kind of scent, a pitch of voice. I am no scholar let alone an initiate of the arcane. But the best I could describe it was that they seemed more than human, something base humanity was a poor imitation of… An illuminating answer. I know. The heiress made a direct line towards me. She must have recognized my rather distinct uniform.

Rehearsed behavior stepped up in place of conscious decision. I assumed a posture of parade ground attention with a stiffness that would have made Bestia proud. The conditioned reaction was a horrible breach of etiquette, but she did not know how to interpret it. I was inadvertently setting a precedent for Isles social manners. She began the conversation.

“You sir must be the representative who had sent the invitation.”

“Yes. I was.”

My speech was blunt, but it left my mouth before my mind could catch up. I was looking at an empty space between us to avoid her eyes. I had the impression that making contact would leave me even more helpless. The list of mistakes was already piling, and I did not need any more distractions. I caught a slight errant twitch of disapproval from her lips. It was so minute that I may have imagined it. She was still a child by their standards and not as consummately drilled in self-control as her peers were. Matters of family had put her education off track. I had made mistakes, but I committed myself to the changes. I would adopt a candid plain-spoken persona. Perhaps the southern perception of northern bluntness would help.

“Follow me please. There is a room prepared.”

We ascended the stairs and I still remember the boy’s expressions. Winston and Llain were almost in a daze when they caught sight of her. They were almost slack jawed and dreamy eyed. Osmund reacted differently. He almost seemed to have a seizure followed by a grimace. He frowned at the lady. His face swiftly returned to a neutral expression, but his eyes held an anger I had never seen before. I wondered what that was all about. There was no time in the present to ponder about that. I had a politics to engage in.

“I wish to add a stipulation to these trade concessions.”

“And what would they be madame?”

“I want exclusive contracts with Isle companies. House Averntide’s fleet own for a start.”

We had been haggling for a better part of an hour over potential trade agreements. Lord Cedric had already established the price in which he was willing to offer. It was up to me to take as much and to give as little as possible. What a youth of sixteen years knew about trade was limited. However, my counterpart was little better. We had a vague idea of how the market functioned, but we were both out of our depth. In truth this was nothing more than a method of establishing contact and developing a rapport. I just never expected that I would be dealing with the lady herself.

“If I may be frank my lady…”

“You have been so far. Curt even.”

I gave a small nod of acknowledgement but no apology.

“You do not have the capacity to meet the demands of any body of interest alone. The potential you leverage is a theoretical trading company. It currently and potentially will not exist.”

Trade with the Isles was almost exclusively done by Isles ships. Reliably getting through the Ghost Sea was near impossible without blind luck or the Lighthouse. What we held as a monopoly in shipping the southerners had in supply. Guilds and housed had formed companies to bring goods from the continent to the city for trade. Dusien was a key point of commerce because of its large well-developed harbor. What the Lady Maron desired was to monopolize the Averntide trading fleet. She wanted to be the exclusive vendor of continental goods.

“An even greater reason for me to acquire reliable contracts. I have the potential to offer the Isles greater returns upon investment. Other houses and companies may have large preestablished assets, but I possess one the largest shares of dockside property. With time I can present one of the most efficient operations.”

I had not known of the resources available to the heiress. It was true that she owned a not insignificant share of the harbor. Many warehouses and berths were leased out to independent companies from who she collected rents. Should that space be consolidated and harnessed, it represented a formidable platform of commerce. I was getting into something well above my comprehension. But I did understand one important thing. She had to inherit it all in the first place.

“If.”

“If?” She replied.

“If you inherit… Clearly there is more to discuss. We have been dealing with hypotheticals after all. Even if everything goes the way you have intended, you will still be unable to meet the import demands of the Isles. We require great volumes of grain and luxuries. The copper and whale markets are outside of house control. Commerce with them will have to be negotiated independently. What we can offer is priority purchases of foodstuff. The details will have to be looked over before I can officially agree to any of your terms. Now, I understand that trade is currently embargoed between our nations. I however possess… diplomatic channels in which I may step around the current restrictions. One deal we can make here and now is that you can take the first pick of cargo from our source.”

“First pick of what?”

“Currently scrimshaw and whiskey. We receive weekly shipments of goods from the Isles. The manifest of the next cargo can be changed.”

I could almost hear the wheels turning in her head. Our correspondence ship was the only vessel that had permission to dock in Auburn. Whilst Wulfric’s holds could not carry significant amounts of goods, he was still making a profit from smuggling high value commodities.

Over the week the gentlemen of Dusien found Isles whiskey was slowly returning to their cabinets. Ladies had furs and scrimshaw in wardrobes. Perfumers once again had a small but steady supply of ambergris. At the center of this all was Lady Eloise Jennet Maron. She had been seen in attendance of the Isles martial displays. She had been seen in gowns lined in fur and serving Isles delicacies to her guests. She had immediately been launched out of obscurity into a curiosity. Time would tell if she would become a fixture not a fad.

Lord Cedric was pleased with how I handled events. Nothing of substance had been agreed upon but I had gotten a foot in the door. He had commandeered Wulfric’s little side business and supplied Lady Eloise with the diplomatic goods. I learnt that tactful gifts could buy more favor than money of the same worth. Trusted stewards of both parties continued formal negotiations. I had played my role and now acted in a capacity I was more qualified in. It became my job to be seen with Lady Maron. The highborn had proven to be far more pleasant company than I had expected. She was into her twentieth year. Considering that highborn could live to four hundred years or longer, she was a child by their measure.

Whilst twenty years was would have been considered maturity for mortals, she was lacking in many other ways. Here was girl whose entire family had degenerated into aberration and madness. She knew that it was in her blood. There was no cure to the taint. Maybe she would be lucky, and it would pass her. Under the looming shadow of going fey she watched her family warp into something else. Everybody abandoned her. The servants left and friends grew distant. Strangers stepped in and took a hold of her life. For all the privilege and transhuman ascendance, she was just a lonely child.

When I shared my thoughts with Janie she smiled. I had frequented her more often now that I spent more time in the city. We were sat in her library sharing a new beverage that was in fashion. She called it cocoa. It was dark brown drink served hot and heavily sweetened. There was a certain richness and natural bitterness. I personally found it inferior to coffee, but she said it was healthful or something other.

“Well I must say that I haven’t entirely disregarded the prospect. You are at that age after all.”

“What age?” I asked.

“Why, the lovely Lady Eloise you have grown so fond of. Boys your age just can’t seem to help themselves.”

Janie sighed and put on an air of asperity. She was a master of her craft. I was momentarily speechless for a moment. Never had I considered the prospect. It was… obscene. I laughed at the sheer absurdity of the notion. The distance between us was comedic if considered.

“Oh no. Please don’t even joke about that my Lady.” I chuckled.

Janie batted her eyes at me. She wore a look of such doe eyed innocence it was downright guilty.

“In the case of a highborn family having dynastic troubles, it is common practice to dilute their blood to stabilize it.”

Shaking my head, I replied. “Perhaps it is so. I admit I do feel a degree of attraction, but it is just that. She looks… well highborn. I would be lying if I did not say that she was beautiful. But what I feel is an animal attraction, nothing more. Perhaps pity for her fortunes as well. Baseless infatuation should be no grounds for love. Practical and personal considerations make the whole notion absurd. Emotions should be no basis for decision making. Especially volatile ones.”

Janie gave me a slow sad smile and sipped at her drink. She looked out the window to the streets below. We said nothing for a while. I felt myself begin to feel foolish for my outburst of honesty. Here is another useful lesson, never let out what you hold deep inside. Nobody truly enjoys honesty. I had been boorish and opened my mouth to change the subject.

“You are a twisted child Edwin.” Janie cut in. “You look at the world through a lens of cynicism. But I would be lying if I tried to dissuade you from that perspective. Life is unkind and people even more so. What you said is right. All things are transient, even love my dear. Even anger. If I had that cynicism when I was your age, I think that my life would have turned out to be different. Happier? I cannot say. But less broken, I think. They say it is better to be ash than dust. But the truth is that the flames do not turn all to ash.”

“Perhaps. But the past does not matter. What is done is done. What comes next is decided today.”

It was an answer pulled out of the sagas and romances, a cliché a hero would spout. I did not believe in the sentiment. But in that shared moment I did. I believed for her and for me. Because she cared about me. There is a lesson in there somewhere. What did she see in me I wonder? To me she was a mother and a sister. A teacher and friend who I owe very much to. My aptitude for conflict would see me rise. But it was her lessons in refinement that allowed me the opportunity. No thug no matter how inspired can ever become something more than a soldier. An officer had to contend in both the political and martial arena.

Whilst I skirted the edges of high society, my personal life was going through changes too. Our band started to practice with our weapons in our free hours. None of us came close to winning the competition of arms. Winston had been quickly put down by a more experienced swordsman and Alwin had met his match in a wily housecarl. Lord Cedric did not participate in the bouts. It would have been unsporting of him to do so. Victory unsurprisingly went to one of his household warriors. Though unexpectedly an unsworn highlander managed to rank third in the tournament. He was granted the opportunity to join the Lords retinue. It was an offer swiftly accepted. Becoming a housecarl was a dramatic advancement to a man’s station.

Perhaps it was the ease in which he was put down, but Winston started to join in my sparring with Alwin. Oskar took one look at our attempts and stepped in to set us straight. He said he couldn’t sit and watch us windmill our weapons about. It was downright embarrassing. Perhaps it was true in Winston’s case. But a flailing sparth axe in his hands was nothing to laugh at. What he lacked in skill was made up for in strength and enthusiasm.

Oskar’s school of arms was rudimentary in form and mechanics. He himself had never been formally trained in any martial system. What he did have was a menagerie of techniques and a philosophy. Anything to win and everything is a weapon. We learnt the utility of a dagger close at hand. How the shield can be a weapon. The methods of killing an armored man with your thumb. Godwin had been initially dismissive of these instructions. But he too had soon joined in. There is a certain childish delight in new toys that never leaves a man. We just trade out our branch swords for real ones. Oskar carried with him a formidable arsenal of “combat expedients”. Lead shot gloves, pouches of powdered glass, a cosh. Not that he needed the dirty tricks to put down a man. It just made the job far easier.

Unexpectedly I found Osmund listening in to Oskar’s instructions too. He had usually kept to himself in the camp. He enjoyed reading and had bought a supply of material with him. We had shared interests, but he was far too prickly to easily befriend. We all took in his brand of fighting philosophy to different degrees. Out of all of us I think Osmund was his most diligent student. To Alwin and Godwin this was all novel but extraneous information. They had the training and talent of traditional warriors. Deviousness was never Winston’s strongest trait. For somebody who needed to learn quickly and effectively, Osmund applied himself wholesale to this philosophy. He was neither as strong nor experienced as the rest of us. But he had a quick mind and a pragmatically ruthless streak.

You had to keep an eye on both his hands when sparring against him. One moment you parried his blow the next, a monkey’s fist was flying past your guard and gave you a black eye. What is a monkey’s fist? I suppose none of you played conkers as children, no? Alright, a monkey’s fist is a type of rope knot. One end is tied into a tight bunch, the other hangs loose. Sometimes a weight is put inside the knotted end. In the right hands it could become an effective weapon. It is something of a favorite amongst Lighthouse Keep’s dockside folk. I better not hear of any of you running about with makeshift flails.

Perhaps I sound like I am rambling. I probably am. But all of this tied into the developing perception of me and the Isles. I will not go into the countless social functions and meetings I attended. Depending on the situation I was an aide or representative for Lord Cedric. Lady Maron was good to her word. As her star ascended so did ours. Working for Lord Cedric I found him to be a delightfully cynical soul with a wicked sense of humor. We both found great amusement in the warped perceptions the Auburners developed. Our thoughtless actions were setting precedents. We were becoming a taciturn martial people in their eyes. All of that was derived from my initial shyness being interpreted for a laconic temperament. Earl Harold the Lord Protector had become the supreme ruler of the Isles. We even had a fluid egalitarian society. I remember overhearing a man call us noble savages. As a joke we glued cow horns to our helmets just to see how far we could take it. Judging by your expressions we were successful in our shenanigans.