Oathbreaker: A Dark Fantasy Web Serial

Arc 5: Chapter 5: Peer

Later, in the Emperor’s small council chamber, Markham tossed me a surly look as a servant worked at the fastens on his golden gauntlet.

“That was a shit show,” Markham said.

He sat by the room’s long table. His bodyguard stood near the door, helmed and anonymous as always. Off to the side, the Lord Steward and the Royal Clericon acted as the only other officials present, the latter armed with a quill in her function as scribe. I’d had time to clean up some, get my armor scrubbed of filth and my cloak dried out, with fresh clothes beneath.

I waited for more, but Markham’s flint gray eyes seemed to look past me. Then with a sigh he said, “Had I not cut in between you and Vander, he’d probably have challenged you to a duel. Why did you have to mention his father?”

I considered a moment, then decided excuses would get me nowhere. Not with this man. “Because he irritated me. And because… it was true, Your Grace. Maxim Braeve was very dedicated to the Table, and he would have agreed with how I’d handled that thing in the sewers.”

In fact, he’d have insisted on leaving Emma and Karog out of it. I didn’t mention that part, and I was cautious not to imply that the old paladin still lived. That secret, along with the existence of Oria’s Fane, were not mine to give. Perhaps Maxim’s son deserved to know about his father, but it wasn’t for me to decide.

Markham grunted, then grit his teeth as the servant unlatched the last catch on his elaborate gauntlet and pulled it from his shoulder. The Emperor of the Accorded Realms lifted his mangled right hand, sighed, and leaned back in his chair to regard me with cool appraisal.

“My councilors had a point,” He said.

Aware of the Steward looming nearby, I bit back the first retort that came to mind. Picking my words with care I said, “The problems I’m best at dealing with are those that need my personal hand, Your Grace. If I get held up by proper procedure, then—”

Markham leaned forward on his chair, something about his demeanor cutting my practiced words short. He wasn’t a large man, or a thin one. Age and the rigors of his position had used him hard. Yet, despite that, he had a way of commanding without speaking.

“I am aware that your abilities and training with the Alder Table make you uniquely suited to dealing with supernatural threats,” Markham said. “If I had a whole regiment of demon hunting warrior-priests, then believe me, I would use them. However, you are more than just a paladin of Seydis, Alken. You are the Headsman, and you agreed to integrate yourself into my government.”

His expression hardened. “If you throw yourself personally at every threat, alone or with just one or two in company, then there is every chance you will get yourself killed. Then I am left without an asset, and you have accomplished nothing. Your behavior also gives you tunnel vision. There is a reason generals do not often fight on the front line unless there is no other choice.”

I suppressed a frustrated sigh. “I am no general, Your Grace.”

Markham drummed the intact fingers of his left hand on the table, ignoring the full cup of wine set there. “Perhaps not. But we will both need to adapt for one another to make this work. I have been speaking with my councilors, including that Seydii ambassador, Fen Harus.”

He waved his left hand, and the Lord Steward stepped forward.

I did not know the man’s name, and I suspected he might not be all human. Many aristocrats of the High Houses had old alchemy in their blood, from a darker era when mage-alchemists held much more power in the world. He stood more than seven feet tall, and it must have taken a small army of tailors to fit his bulk into his elaborate uniform, with all its buttons and fills. He had an almost cherubic face at odds with his size, with round cheeks and curled golden hair. His eyes tended to be hidden beneath a hanging brow, though I’d caught a blue glint on the occasion he lifted one.

Like Vander and some others in the court, he tended to challenge me on every occasion. However, with the Steward, I suspected this to be less of a personal grievance with me and more a service he provided for the Emperor. By being the accusatory voice in official affairs, he cut to the heart of matters that otherwise might be obscured by diplomatic poeticism.

He also happened to have the honor of acting as the Emperor’s closest advisor. When he spoke, it was wise to listen.

“Acting as the errant vigilante may have served you in the past,” the Steward said in his musical basso. “However, it has also failed to provide results in the matter of the Carmine Killer, who you have hunted now for three months without success.”

I tightened my jaw, refusing to rise to his flippant tone. The Steward lifted one of his drooping eyebrows, and I got the sense he approved. He continued in a more professional voice.

“This problem of the rogue spirit and whatever forces might be behind it will not be the only duty required of you. We are still working out the fine details, but you are to be given responsibilities outside of merely playing as the court monster hunter. Ser Fen Harus has informed us that the original holders of your title, the old Headsmen, were justiciars as well as executioners, and their actions were not always violent. They acted as arbiters, investigators, even diplomats of a sort.”

I folded my arms. “I’m passingly familiar with the stories. The Headsmen were a type of doom bearer, dispensing judgements from the Sidhe lords across their realms.”

It made sense to me that previous holders of my title acted in a preventative capacity. Their very reputation might stop disasters before they even had a chance to start, by cowing treacherous vassals into submission.

The Steward nodded. “Indeed. What this tells us is that using you merely as a hammer to strike at nails is an ill use of your talents, as both this thing and as an Alder Knight, who also had non martial functions. So, in the interest of… hm, let’s just say refining your role in our Accord, we have decided to grant you certain duties in a trial capacity.”

Unease, already coiling in my chest since I’d entered the room for this private meeting, began to tighten its grip. “Duties?”

“Indeed,” The Steward said with the shadow of a smile, which I noted gave him dimples. “First and foremost, outside of this ongoing investigation, you will be given some jurisdiction over various misdeeds in the city and its surrounds.”

“Misdeeds?” I asked.

The Steward waved a hand, causing the rings on it to flash in the daylight spilling through the window. “Crimes, mostly. Violent disturbances, particularly those the guard are unable to handle through ordinary means. We cannot always trust the Houses to be neutral in matters related to their own blood, and sometimes there is a case such as this creature you fought in the sewers.”

The royal clericon’s quill flitted dutifully on her podium. My heart sank. “I see. And?”

The Steward continued, beginning to pace along one side of the table opposite from Markham, who’d remained silent through this. “In the future, we may have you travel abroad to provide similar services across the Accord’s member realms. That will require the Ardent Round to weigh in, and in the meantime there is enough to do here in the capital. You will deliver reports to the court in person once a month, and written reports to me weekly. You will also be required to keep records of your activities, and familiarize yourself with the city’s laws and current events. You will coordinate with the guard, and keep up to date with their records of crime and punishment.”

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By the end of this barrage, my heart had sunk somewhere down into the bowels of the ancient castle. The work load he suggested would be immense.

I turned to the Emperor, trying to keep the note of pleading out of my voice even though I felt it bubbling up in my chest. “Your Grace, are you putting me behind a desk? I am no bureaucrat.”

Markham just lifted his graying eyebrows, and kept his lips tightly sealed as the Steward continued as though I hadn’t interrupted.

“You will be provided chambers here in the Fulgurkeep to maintain your own archives, equipment, and coordinate your efforts. You will, of course, cooperate with the palace guard, servants, clerks, and other staff.”

He shrugged, a dramatic movement for the towering man.

“How am I supposed to manage all of this and the hunt for Yith?” I growled, not bothering to hide my annoyance anymore. The clericon woman’s scratching quill had quickly become a grating noise.

“Ah.” I swear, the goring man’s boyish dimples grew a fraction. “On that point, you will be given a chain of command, including a picked group subordinate to you.”

That was a step too far. “You’re going to saddle me with a staff to manage?”

Markham finally cut in, speaking without standing from his chair. “Yes, we are, and you’re not going to quibble about it.”

“Your Grace…” I started, breaching protocol by speaking out of turn and hardly caring just then.

Markham spoke over me. “Garihelm has a population of over a hundred and fifty thousand people. That has swelled to near two hundred thousand with the summit and the new trade. We believe part of your struggles so far are because you are striking out into the city alone, on foot, acting as the sleuth.

He took a sip of wine, unhurried, then set the cup back down. I knew what he was doing. Daring me to argue, to bite into the silence. I kept my anger locked behind clenched teeth, though it certainly festered there.

“There is simply too much to be done for one man alone,” Markham said. “So you will be provided more hands, and more eyes.”

Spying eyes, I’m sure. I couldn’t trust anyone the court might give me. “And who are these people to be?” I asked.

“You already have that apprentice of yours,” Markham said. “So there’s a start. Make no mistake, Hewer, this is happening. You agreed to it, and I think you expected this.”

I had. I had just believed I would have found Yith by now, solidified myself into the court, done something of worth.

Figured things out with Rose, I thought quietly, then buried the thought.

“You’re going to be speaking with my voice in some matters,” Markham added. His tone had changed, shifting from weary authority to something more personal. It drew my attention, and stifled some of my frustration. “This is going to be an official role, Alken. You will become part of this court, answerable to the Ardent Round and to me.

He paused a moment. “Because of that… no, for that to happen, there is something else that needs doing.”

Markham stood, taking a step forward as he pressed his mangled hand to his sternum. He looked up into my face. The Emperor stood near a head shorter than me, yet I did not feel the taller man just then.

The door opened and someone was ushered in. I heard rustling fabric behind me, and the clip-clop of cloven hooves. Fen Harus shuffled up to stand beside the clericon. Markham did not spare the old elf so much as a glance. His attention remained fixed on me, his emotions unreadable.

“Kneel,” He said.

I blinked. “Your Grace?”

Markham lifted his chin. “Take a knee, Hewer.”

I did, not fully aware of the movement until after I’d done it. Though I lowered my head, the act a reflex I hadn’t realized I’d kept all these years, I saw enough to know Markham turned to the Royal Clericon.

“You will stand witness for the College?” He asked her.

The holy scribe bowed her veiled head. “Of course, Your Grace.”

Then he addressed the elven ambassador. “And you will witness for the Elder Peoples?”

The Oradyn bowed, folding his monkish sleeves together. “Gladly, O’ King of Kings.”

My mind had gone blank, refusing to accept what was happening, what I’d started to suspect even as Fen Harus had entered. It was old tradition for one of the Sidhe to bear witness to such ceremonies, and give their kind’s blessing.

The Steward approached, his steps almost vibrating through the carpeted stone beneath me. He handed something to Markham. I didn’t even need to look up to know what it was.

The Emperor of the Accorded Realms of Urn lifted the sword in a practiced salute using his left hand. It was a slender thing, its hilt gilded and shaped into intricate spirals, prayers etched into the blade near the base.

I could feel it through my aura. The sword had never seen battle, yet its touch had moved history, and history had clung to it as a near audible hum of power.

My heart sounded a panicked rhythm in my ears. I didn’t feel ready for this.

“I would have liked to do this in front of the court,” Markham said. “But I think it best to keep the Accord’s eyes off you until we remove the doubt surrounding this. Surrounding you. Those angels did much for you when they appeared that day, Alken, but they cannot make the realms believe in you. You must do that.”

I bowed my head lower, taking a moment to find my voice. It came out hoarse. “I understand, Your Grace.”

A long silence. Then in a voice more quiet than I’d ever heard from him Markham said, “I believe you. I don’t think many in all the legions of lords and knights and holy men I rule truly understand the stakes for which we play as you do, Alken. But you can no longer be the warrior vagabond. It is time to rejoin us, in truth.”

He spoke words then, ones I’d heard many times in my life. I had heard Rosanna speak them mostly, once with me kneeling at her feet as I did before her husband then. His voice had a sonorous quality, almost melodic, rolling over me like the ebb and flow of a heavy tide.

In my memory, it overlapped with my queen’s voice.

He wove his own soul into those words. Markham was no paladin or magus, but he was leader of nations. He had a potent aura, and his words echoed into reality itself, sewn into the land’s living memory.

“By the power vested in me as Knight Captain of the Faith, as King, as Emperor, as First Among Equals, I grant you these boons. I hereby restore to you the title of Lord, and all the responsibilities therein. You shall uphold my laws, act with grace in all matters, hold the traditions of our peoples close, and rule those beneath you justly in my name.”

He tapped me on my left shoulder. I felt a thrum go through me, as though I’d become the plucked chord on a harp.

“I restore to you the sacred honor of knighthood, to be canonized by the stewards of the Faith in the Golden Annals.”

He tapped me on my right shoulder. My whole being quivered like a stricken bell. I gasped, forced to press a fist to the floor to keep upright.

That hadn’t happened the first time, all those years ago when Rosanna had knighted me. Then again, I hadn’t been sewn up with sacred fire back then. This felt more like the second time, with the Archon.

Markham made a flourishing salute with the sword, showing surprising dexterity considering he didn’t use his dominant hand. “By Blessed Gold, By the grace of Onsolem and its rightful queen, by all the saints dead and immortal, I grant it. Henceforth, you are a peer of the Accorded Realms and a Knight of the Aureate. Rise, Lord Alken.”

I rose, feeling unsteady on my feet. My aura still thrummed with the change that had just been made to it. Such rites have very real consequence to me. I was practically a repository for them, thanks to what Fen Harus’s people had done all those years ago.

No going back now, not that I’d intended to.

Markham studied me a moment, as though inspecting a painting he’d just put the finishing stroke on, then nodded. “It is done. I will give you one night to perform whatever personal ritual you deem fit. Here in the north, we usually hold a night of vigil. I understand it is more common to have a feast in the south?”

Taken aback, I nodded. “There are many rituals in the south, Your Grace. Back in Karledale, the knights tended to celebrate with friends and family on such, uh, occasions.”

I hadn’t had any family back when Rosanna had knighted me, not any at hand. Just her and Lias. The three of us had spoken of the future late into the night. Then…

White silk in the moonlight and hair like spun shadow under my hand. A voice softened by a nervousness I’d never heard in it before.

“We have to be careful. This doesn’t mean—”

“I know. It’s alright.”

Had that really been sixteen years ago? I still remembered it so clearly. I still felt the warmth of it.

Markham put a hand on my shoulder. I pushed the memory aside, hoping my guilt didn’t show on my face. “Take tonight for yourself,” He said. “Tomorrow, we get back to work.”