I will skip through what I did over the days leading to the autumn ball. Suffice to say that I had managed to acquire the invitations and avoided further trouble. My business with Wulfric shut down when we were faced with marauding bands of vigilantes. Our local counterparts were not complicit in the attempted ambush. Even they were starting to feel the squeeze. Something of multiway street war was brewing. Conservative, Radical, foreign, criminal, the first deaths had opened the flood gates of violence. Lady Maron still got her shipments, Lord Cedric saw to that. Everything else was put on halt. Neither Wulfric nor I wanted a piece of the conflict.

At some point I realized that this job would not be as peaceful as originally promised. Some terrible gut feeling had me wondering if marching to the capital would entail marching on it. I began to pay more attention to the talks between the great and good. There were stories of skirmishes and duels fought between rampant young nobles. We in the camps isolated ourselves from all of it. But it almost seemed as if there was a death a day in the city. Conservative and Radical divisions were far more dire than we had imagined.

It was during an evening meal that I had shared my concerns with my commander. Lord Cedric disliked the formality of dining. He always gave me the impression he found eating a necessary hassle he could do without. When not officially obliged to be at the dining table, he took his meals in his quarters whilst working. It was in these times when we were alone that I could openly voice my thoughts.

“I would imagine so young Saker.” He mumbled. Lord Cedric was had not looked up from a pile of missives when he had replied. An untouched plate of chicken sat on the corner of his table going cold. “Tell me, what do you make of the current state of affairs in this kingdom?”

I frowned in thought for a moment and then gave my assessment. “Lost… Uncertain would be a better word. This kingdom is riven down the middle then fractured some more. There is a depth of history to this conflict that goes beyond pure ideology. Neither side seems willing to compromise. At the same time both factions are unable to secure dominance. Internal divisions within themselves robs their leadership of decisiveness. The Radicals whilst well backed and dynamically led, they are torn between patriots and Reich collaborators. They risk internal loosing significant support if one side dominates the agenda.”

“And the Conservatives?”

“Leaderless. Despite their dividing lines, the Radicals have the Elector-King to rally behind. The Conservatives do not even have a symbolic leader. They are led by powerful lords whose only consensus is that the Radicals must be opposed. I suppose that Artois is consolidating his position, but his leadership will never be certain. He has too many near peers. All of this would have resulted in a stalemate, but it has not. Instead they are making shows of force. Looking at what is going on in the city, it is like they have no control of their own. Whilst their leaders plot their subordinates openly war”

“Indeed. It is like sparks near oil. These southerners are weak. Oh, I do not think that their armies and wealth are inferior to ours. I speak of character. Ambition and arrogance ruin these people. The fact that an internal political faction had accepted foreign aid speaks of how deep the rot has set in. Even the bitterest of rivalries in the Isles would shun outside influences. Loved or hated, when the Lord Protector commands, he is obeyed. There is opportunity here Edwin. The chance to forge our own kingdom.”

“Forge?” I gave him a look. Before I could say anything more, I understood his implications. There was an opportunity to exploit. “You need a war.”

“Do I?”

Behind his glib answer I could see his designs. I was not naive enough to believe that we came all the way here out of altruism. My job to ingratiate myself to the local powers was proof enough of the interests we held in this land. What I had not considered was that he had ambitions in the Isles. What is better than an existential conflict to bring a people together? The authority of the Lord Protector at war was a good pretext for a union of the Isles. It was the perfect conflict. Between our navy and the Ghost Sea, no continental force could execute an invasion of our lands. We were safe from external threats. At the same time, we could sell the war as a death struggle against the Reich. They did hold territorial ambitions over our island. A mix of lies and truths.

“And you intend to be that spark?”

“No. In truth I do not need to do anything. A localized conflict would be helpful but what I need is to expose the Isles to the Reich. Despite your assessment the southern lords, they are not entirely fools. They let their most unruly hounds tug at their leash. That way they destroy each other. Should any of them pull too hard, they are put down by their masters. They have no intention to force a civil war. There is too much at stake.”

Whatever happened, house Averntide was able to benefit. The worst-case scenario was if Artois was outmaneuvered in politics and accepted his losses. Even then all that happens was that we had a long southern holiday. There would be death and starvation. But things would eventually return to how they were before the boom. Do you find my assessment callous? Perhaps it is. But then it is the judgment shared by all in power. It is a minor price to pay for what could be won. The unspoken will to ignite a conflict himself if things did not go his way was what took me aback.

Getting our delegation prepared for the autumn ball took up the most of our time. The invitation from house Monforte included his lordship and his esteemed officers. Who and how many that meant was quite the question. We needed to send a reply of acceptance and how many guests would be attending. For reference we asked how many the Free Cities contingent would be sending. They replied that they had not received an invitation. We decided upon twelve. The letter sent back to house Monforte stated that the allied delegation would be glad to accept their kind invitation.

There was a flurry of preparations from our side of the attendees. The first order of the day was to get everybody suitably attired. Whilst our Isles officers had opulent costumes, Lord Cedric thought it best if they all got new sets of clothes like my own. A tricky problem to consider was the ball itself. Ball’s generally included a lot of dancing. Everybody knew the midwinter line dances. The highlanders had a mad jig of their own. When it came to the more… sophisticated southern steps, we were utterly in the dark. We needed the aid of an expert in these kinds of things. So, I turned to the only friend that I knew. And she laughed.

“You want me to teach twelve fearsome barbarians how to dance? All on my lonesome?” Janie chortled at the suggestion.

“Six madame. The other half will be from the Free Cities.”

“Oh my. Say, will your Lord Cedric be attending as well?”

“I believe so.”

“Wouldn’t that be a sight?” She shook her head. “Why, all his partners would look positively petite next to his figure. He would have to affect an ungainly stoop to just to look them in the eyes.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Occupational hazard. I take it that you will not be at leisure to help?”

She sighed and gave me an indulgent smile. “Again, with the bluntness. You must learn how to speak in circles my dear. And for reference, what a woman dislikes more than a petty stature are petty men.”

The joys of being the runt of the litter. I was never tall. The fact irked me then. She was not going to help on this account. Rather she could not. As I later found out she was an excellent dancer but there were far better teachers. A proper instructor was required. Instead she suggested asking for the Free Cities attendants aid in this matter.

His name was Marcus Ferrara, and he had a stupid moustache. It was the first time that I had been introduced to him properly. He was the leader of Captain General Alessia’s outriders. A position of no small authority for a man so young. With Lord Cedric’s good will gesture, the condottiere had notably warmed up to us. Whilst we had never shared hostile relations, the had held us in aloof disinterest. We had shared little to no communication with each other. Marcus was sent to be our liaison. His first job was to handle our request. Teach us how to dance.

I sat atop a green hill enjoying the last of the summers sun. It was a perfect afternoon. I had a full skin of wine from the vintners and a crusty loaf to enjoy. Generous funds and free access to the city had its perks. The entire band joined me on the hill. Winston was busy trying to light a fire for the brace of rabbits Oskar had snared. Osmund had bought out his flute. He was skilled with the instrument. It did not surprise me. Though he had never mentioned it he was the most artistically inclined out of all of us. What I didn’t expect was for Godwin to share that musical streak. He unveiled a beautiful harp from an oilskin cover. It was fashioned from whalebone and capped in silver. Alwin was Alwin. So, he had just turned up. We made him find fuel for the fire.

“So then, what are they up to down there?” Winston asked. He had managed to get the flames going and left Oskar to manage it. We both looked down the hill and saw a troupe of capering men.

“Dancing apparently.” I took a swig of the wine. The stuff had grown on me.

“It doesn’t look like any kind that I know of.”

I grunted in a way of reply. Frankly, it was good entertainment. Watching the great men of the Isles being manhandled was something you didn’t see every day. Marcus the Free Cities attaché had hired discreet ladies. He also bought other gentlemen of his camp to teach us northerners how not to embarrass ourselves. Themselves.

“So why are you up here then? Aren’t you going with them?”

“I am afraid I’m not. Mores the better. Beats being down there.” I took another swig. The ladies were giving their students quite the ear bending. It felt good. I believe the Reich tongue has a word for it, schadenfreude.

“Easy on the drink there. Leave some for us.”

I frowned at his remark. His comment irked me, but I made nothing of it. It was not worth the effort. Winston gave me a grin. Despite what his mouth was doing, one eye held concern, the other a reminder of what I owed him. If I had one decent virtue it was that I was self-aware. Looking back over the days since my dismissal, I had been an ass. Oh yes, I had been dismissed from Lord Cedric’s services. When the final test was put before me, I failed. He needed good men. Men he could trust. I had made my decision. I could not risk the dangers such a role entailed. Not while he whilst he was here. That cloudy eye was evidence enough of my weakness. I would not put Winston in danger by association again. I would not go to war if I could help it.

I stoppered the skin and tossed it to him. It was time to move on. There was no point in being sentimental. Shaking my head, I told myself that I was a better sell sword than a courtier anyway. Beside it meant I did not need to be down the hill. Despite my newfound magnanimity, I took no small pleasure in watching the flailing figures below.

“How are the conies going?”

Winston shrugged. “Oskar is letting Alwin handle it.”

“Gods. You sure that’s a good idea?”

“No. But it beats having to do it yourself.”

Alwin would butcher the animals. For all his talent with weapons, he was hopeless at everything else. He tried to make up for his deficiencies with enthusiasm. It just made things worse.

“Well I guess we can turn what he eviscerated into sausages later…”

“There will be problem of all the bones… and the fur.”

“Winston.”

“Hm?”

“Give me back my wine skin…”

“No.” Winston unstopped the skin and tipped its content down his gullet.

Osmund and Godwin made their music. Winston and I wrestled over the wine. We laughed in the sun like when we were young. Alwin tended the fire after he macerated his first rabbit. Oskar for his part seemed to be at ease for once. We were coming together as real band. Only the fires of combat remained to temper us. Disapproving eyes turned to face us from below the hill. Maybe they thought we were laughing at them. They were not wrong.

Llain took over most of my duties when I left my post. I received no official dismissal, but I understood well enough. There were no longer any assignments nor requests for reports. It was time to go. I had yet to acquire an official audience with Count de Charney but that was no longer my problem. Leaving everything to a very confused Llain, I pinned my silver lighthouse to his chest before I left. It seemed like a fitting gesture at the time. I am told that the very same pin has become the semi-official badge of the chamberlain to the Lord Protector.

One thing I did not relinquish was my unrestricted pass out of the camp. I suspect that the document itself was unimportant. The sentries never really looked at it. The lack of an official dismissal was what was important. An oversight by Lord Cedric. I abused it for all that it was worth. Summers end was swiftly approaching. Despite the cooling weather, tensions seemed to only rise. Dusien’s city council had forbidden the sales of supplies to the Free Cities mercenaries. Their diplomatic spat had only gotten worse. The Isles instead bought their goods for them. Another victory for Lord Cedric. Though not as great a one as he would wish. Captain Alessia Faccini and her army was no ordinary force. He may have bought some good will, but the condottiere loyalties lay firmly with their Captain.

There were casks of ale and fresh meat bought in our camp. Some of the carcasses would be salted and preserved for the march. The rest would be consumed with the ale on the night of the autumn ball. Whilst our commanders would attend the reception held by Duke Monforte, we were to be restricted to the camps. The fresh meat and libations were meant as supplications. I had other ideas.

Sneaking my comrades into Dusien for the celebrations was a stupid idea. We would likely catch a knife in the ribs as were likely to stick one in ourselves. Things were a little too heated there. There was little keeping us in the camps either. We were perhaps the most comfortable and well-fed band outside of the housecarls. Lord Cedric’s largess was unimpressive to say the least. Instead I had made other arrangements. Less than an hour’s ride from the city were beautiful sandy beaches. I had been talking to Wulfric and he had like my line of thinking. The old scoundrel had always enjoyed playing the great man. Hosting his own beachside party would tickle his ego. Invitations were sent to trusted business partners in the city. Wulfric ran away with the idea and it grew into something far larger than originally intended.

Two celebrations happened on summers end. There was the autumn ball and the summers dance. Doubtless there were other parties held by hundreds of other households. But in my mind, they were the only two that mattered. Let me tell you of the first before the second.

As I said, I did not attend the Monforte autumn ball. It would have been inappropriate even if I had the favor of Lord Cedric. I had not the birth or status to mingle with such company. By all accounts it had been a conventional affair. So that meant grand opulence and high society. Youths danced whilst old men plotted from the sidelines. A flight of birds over a pit of vipers. Such is politics. There was a minor scandal when Captain Alessia attended the affair. Lord Cedric managed to brush it all under the table. There the great and good performed their rituals of socialization. Politics maneuvered like the dancers in the halls. It must have been a toxic affair. I am glad I did not go.

The beachside party was am more raucous affair. Serval of Wulfric’s sailors and our band arrived early to prepare the venue. We unloaded casks of drink and crates of food. None of it was haute cuisine but it suited us just fine. The ship was boon in transporting goods to our site. I went inland with Alwin to purchase a hog to be slaughtered. Picking out an animal with ample bacon, we walked the creature to the beach. It was late afternoon, a few good hours till the appointed hour. Wulfric took his ship out to sea after he delivered the last of the wares. He wanted to make his entrance in style. When everybody arrived, he would beach the ship and leap off into the surf. Styling himself like a hero from the sagas, that was Wulfric. Until that time we poor bastards had to light fires on a windy shore. The flames needed to get going if we were going to cook that pig on time.

With the aid of copious cursing and several bottles of whisky we got the fires lit. We drank the stuff. Whisky is not as flammable as you think it is. Pig slaughtered and dressed, we put it into a pit of coals we had prepared in advance. Tables were being set and drinks organized. Fresh bread from the city were put under canvas until the celebrations began. Looking around I had an inkling that we had not prepared enough. My suspicions would be proven correct. But not in the manner I had originally thought.

There was music and there was dancing. There was food, drink, and laughter. As the sun slowly sank and the bonfires were lit, the guests arrived. We must have been a beach full of criminals and smugglers. People slowly paired off and danced in the sand. I do not know who started it, but I found myself in an Isles line dance. Our rural communities celebrated the harvest in all sorts of ways. But the line dance was a commonality we shared with even the highlanders. A lot of Wulfric’s crew were country boys and they spun southern girls with great enthusiasm. My partner was as about as familiar with the steps as I was. But we both laughed it through as we bungled everything up. It felt good.

When we were finished, I stood with plate full of crackling. I watched the more proficient dancers break off on their own. There was a riot of joy and enthusiasm. A hand came over my shoulder pinching a choice morsel. Turning around I Winston grinning back at me. He handed me a bottle and I took a swig. The liquid burned as it hit my throat. I sputtered and sprayed a good amount of it into the sand.

“By the dead Winston, was that poteen?”

“First drop brother. Gone to the fairies now. Well at least what you donated that is.”

First drop was as about as close to pure as drinks things came. We used it to clean wounds and in a pinch, light fires. The fairies cut was what we called product lost during the distillation process. I guess the little buggers loved the stuff.

“Have you been drinking this the entire time?” I gasped.

“No. I just wanted to see you try.”

I glared at him. That only made him laugh. I felt the familiar demons come upon me. It pushed me to make another foolish decision. I tilted my head back and began chugging the contents of the bottle. Cold fire burned down my throat and unpleasant queasiness settled in my stomach. I drank anyway. I drank until I could not take an anymore.

“There.”

Heaving I dropped the bottle and fell on to my behind. Winston moved to save the plate of cracklings. Good to see that he had his priorities straight. I sat in a daze whilst Winston sat down beside me. I took a piece of crispy pork off him and popped it into my mouth. It was hot and greasy. The crackling had been salted ferociously. Gods was it good.

“Gods Eddie, you didn’t need to do that…” He looked at me in concern, but I just gave him a woozy smile. Sitting down besides me we sat for a while. “Reminds me of the midwinter dances.”

“Oh?”

“This. It’s a lot warmer now but it feels like I’m back on cooper’s lane. Back home with family… With Hilda…” Winston whispered the last part. He blushed and gave me a quick look. I pretended not to hear. “You should join us some time. I’m sure your father would be happy to see you…”

“Yeah. I should…”

The midwinters celebration. It had been a while since I had celebrated that. Been a while since I celebrated anything. I watched the dancing with a longing to be somewhere I could not be. To be someone I was not. Would I have been forgiven? Could I have settled back into that life? What was done was done. It is pointless wondering if. Drink bought on a quiet introspection as I felt my head spin. The poteen had started to catch up to me. I think we both knew that I wouldn’t be going home.

I just sat there as the flames burned into the night. Winston was dragged off by blushing maidens. He was a popular man. He must have had a hundred partners. Others from the band came and went. I watched come and go. My reverie was broken when I noticed something strange was going on. By that point some of the drink had worn off. As I looked about, I noticed that the crowd had grown far larger than it had been. There were revelers clearly not affiliated with our original guests. Seeing that there was no trouble, I went to find Wulfric and ask him if he knew what was going on.

Wulfric was sat the head of a long table. He was roaring drunk and clearly having a good time. I paused in my approach. From long experience I knew that I would get nothing useful out of him. Instead I went looking for a less inebriated authority. Long story short I discovered that our additional participants were curious people who had dropped by to see what was going on. It seemed that word had spread, and people had come from the surrounding country and city. Everybody enjoyed free food. Speaking of, we looked like we were going to need more of it.