Brian Kittrell - The Consuls of the Vicariate

“Forgive me if my meaning wasn’t clear.” Jurgen turned to Marac. “I meant to infer that fact, but merely returning to this city seems to have brought back my propensity for guarding my tongue.”

“Why would you need to be guarded about it? Isn’t it common knowledge?” Laedron asked.

“In Sorbia, perhaps, but not this far from your homeland. Regardless, few would care about the distinction in these times. The theocracy is at war with your country in its entirety. I only meant to say that matters of politics require a certain measure of tact.”

“Agreed.” Laedron nodded. “Have you considered what you will do? Of course, you must return to the consulship, but how?”

“Simple,” Jurgen said, taking another swig from his mug. “I walk in and take my seat.”

“It’s that easy?”

“Yes, but I do require a clerk to accompany me.”

Laedron shifted in his seat. “A clerk? Why?”

“To scribe notations and aid me with my duties, of course.” Jurgen gestured as if holding a quill to a piece of paper. “Consuls need the services of an assistant whilst in the chamber.”

“Where are we to find such a person? We have little money left to hire one.”

“Surely one of you can write.”

Shaking his head, Laedron glanced at his knights. “We can write, but it’s far too dangerous for us. I killed Gustav Drakar, if you have forgotten, and few left the cathedral without seeing my face. Also, any number of people could have witnessed Marac and Brice running from the guard the previous night.”

“Then we would require someone the church couldn’t possibly recognize.” Jurgen fixed his stare on Valyrie. “Or a person they wouldn’t deem to be a threat.”

During the conversation, Valyrie had done little beyond staring at the table, but she glanced up when the room grew quiet, seeming to feel the eyes falling upon her. “Who? Me? No, I can’t.”

“Can’t you?” Jurgen leaned toward her. “I’ve known you and your father for quite some time, and I find it hard to believe that you would be unable.”

“I can’t,” she repeated.

“We cannot ask this of her, not at a time like this. She just lost her father,” Laedron said, patting her arm. “There must be another way.”

“That’s not the reason.” She rubbed her eyes. “I must send word to my uncle; the inn will need a caretaker. I’ll have to watch over it until he can send someone.”

“If you prepare a letter, one of my men will carry it to him directly,” Piers offered. “I swear it.”

“That still leaves the inn empty. It could be a week before my uncle receives notice, then another before he could arrive.”

“If you want, my men can secure the inn and post guard until he comes.”

Nodding, she crossed her arms. “I’ll need to make funeral arrangements, too. He always said he wanted to be placed in the Sea of Pillars so he could rest near Azura’s heart.”

Jurgen removed his spectacles and rubbed his nose. “Out of the question. The Arcanists wouldn’t allow it.”

“What do they have to do it with?” Laedron asked.

“They keep the secret knowledge of navigating the Sea of Pillars, but they are also responsible for the sea itself, keeping the water sacred and holy. No common man’s remains may be spread there. Such an act would be likened to throwing paint on a temple.”

“Perhaps we can come to a compromise.” Laedron tapped his chin. “If I reduced his remains to dust, we could spread them along the banks of the sea. Would that be in keeping with his wishes, Val?”

“Azura teaches that our bodies return to the cycle after the soul has departed.” She paused. “Yes, I think he would have liked that.”

“You’ll serve in the capacity of a clerk, then?” Jurgen asked.

“Yes, I’ll do it. For the memory of my father. In exchange, you will serve him one last time by committing him to the sea with Azura’s blessing.”

“Of course. It’s settled, then. I’ll make arrangements for housing somewhere near the Vicariate. Valyrie and I shall need a separate place to reside for our task.”

Laedron raised an eyebrow. “You won’t stay here?”

“It wouldn’t be wise to remain here. If anyone followed me, they would locate the order’s secret headquarters, and our mission would be jeopardized.”

“Very well,” Laedron said, despite wanting to be near Valyrie. “You’re right.”

Valyrie stood. “I want to see my father one last time. Where is he being kept?”

“Downstairs in the private chapel.” Piers gestured toward the hall. “Caleb will show you there.”

Laedron watched Caleb close the door behind them. “She’s lost so much.”

“It is unfortunate, and if I could do anything to change the past, I would.” Piers folded his hands in his lap. “All I can do now is offer to help her in any way I can.”

Brice nodded. “What is this place? If you don’t mind my asking.”

Laedron turned to him. “We haven’t heard a peep out of you until now.”

“I didn’t want to interrupt,” he replied. “I didn’t want to upset her any more than she already was.”

“It’s a good thing you didn’t talk, then,” Marac said.

Brice smirked. “Really, what is this place?”

“An abandoned church. Our order once occupied a place of honor in the city, but when the schism happened, we were cast out from our fortress,” Piers explained. “To remain in the city, we needed an unassuming base of operations, and we found one in this church.”

“Schism?” Brice asked.

“When the order separated itself from the church, the situation degraded quickly, and the militia confronted us openly in the streets. That’s where I got this scar.” Piers pointed at his face. “We took what money we had and bought this building under an alias.”

Caleb returned, and Laedron glanced his way before looking at Piers again. “No one knows you’re here?”

“No one outside the order, for our own safety. If the church were to find out, especially now, they would imprison us-or worse. As a result, we’ve become experts at keeping ourselves hidden over the years.”

“You’ve never been tempted to leave?” Laedron took a drink from a tray Caleb offered. “I would hate having to hide all the time.”

“It’s crossed our minds, especially when the war began. We came to a decision to remain here, though. What better place to be than under the enemy’s nose?” Piers let out a chuckle. “Any work we do for the order here is more important than any we could do elsewhere.”

Laedron nodded. “I can’t argue with you there.”

Piers put his elbows on the table. “So, have you thought about what you will do while Jurgen is away?”

“Away? It’s not as if he’s going to some distant city.”

“Yes, but his task could take some time. In the meantime, we could accomplish a great deal with a sorcerer’s aid.”

“What sort of thing did you have in mind?”

Smiling, Piers leaned back in his chair. “Tomorrow, after Valyrie’s father is laid to rest. We’ll talk then.”

“All right.” Laedron stood. “I’m going to check on her and perform the transformation.”

“Caleb, will you see our new friend to the chapel?” Piers gestured toward the door and received a nod from Caleb.

Laedron made a quick stop by his room to get the appropriate spellbook, then Caleb led him to the bowels of the church. When they stopped at the chapel door, Laedron said, “Sorry about that earlier.”

Opening the door, Caleb remained silent, then closed it when Laedron passed through. I feel bad for punching him, but he really deserved it , he mused. Perhaps he’ll find a way to forgive me someday.