“Try not to do so again.”
He might have made a stronger threat to someone else, but Gerand had served him loyally for years. Any threat would have been false, and both knew it. He was too important to lose. But again, it showed Gerand’s true nervousness. Why? What was it about Lord Victor that worried him so?
“You’ve met him before, haven’t you?” he asked.
Gerand nodded, adjusted the collar of his shirt.
“My wife’s family lives on his lands,” he said. “I’ve spoken to him only once, but that was enough. He is not a man to forget, my liege, nor take lightly. If he says he will accomplish something, then he will accomplish it, regardless the cost.”
“Then why worry? He’s pledged to clean out the streets. Let him try, and fail.”
Gerand cleared his throat.
“That is the thing. He won’t fail. What he promises is war, like which we have not had in four years.”
The King grunted.
“You mean when that Gemcroft bitch went mad?”
“Yes, like that,” Gerand said dryly.
Edwin leaned back in his chair and drank a tart wine from his goblet. Smacking his lips, he set it down and shook his head.
“If that’s all he plans, then I’ll laugh in his face and send him back out to whatever runty castle he came from. The thieves are like rats, and they’ve grown exceptionally skilled lately at hiding in the walls.”
On the opposite side of the room, at the end of the crimson carpet leading to the raised dais, there came a knock on the heavy doors. The guards stationed there waited for an order. Edwin sighed, rubbed his eyes. Too early. He hadn’t had much to eat, and coupled with the wine, it left him with a sharp headache. Stupid lords. Stupid, naive lords thinking they had every answer.
“Send him in,” he said, his voice echoing down the hall. “But only him.”
Two guards bowed, and then they cracked open one of the doors and stepped out. A moment later, it swung open wide, and in stepped Lord Victor, flanked by the guard. The King studied him as he approached. He was a tall man, lean with muscle. His blond hair was cut short about his neck, his face cleanly shaven. Instead of the expected attire of nobles, he wore tall boots, a red tunic showing the symbol of his house, and a suit of chainmail. A sword was strapped to his thigh, and Edwin felt his ire rise, this time for his guards being dense enough to let him keep it.
“Greetings, my King,” Victor said, smiling wide. Gods he was handsome, his voice strong, confident. It made Edwin sick, and filled him with an irrational desire to slap him across the face.
“Welcome to my home,” Edwin said, not rising. He gestured to the man’s tunic. “I must confess, I have not seen that symbol in many a long year. I cannot remember its meaning.”
Victor glanced down at his chest. Having a family crest go unrecognized would normally be considered an insult, but Victor didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered.
“It is a pair of wings stretched wide before the sun,” he said. “Their gold melds together, as is appropriate. Our wealth comes from the birds of the forest, the fields that grow beneath the sun, and the strength of our kin rising every day, without fail, to do what must be done.”
“You Kanes must be a proud lot,” Edwin said.
For the first time that smug grin faltered, just a little.
“My father was a proud man,” he said. “Proud as my mother was beautiful. A shame you will never meet them.”
“Dead, then?” Edwin asked. He sensed disapproval, and that made him continue. He liked making Victor uncomfortable, reminding him that he was in charge of everything, even their conversation. “Accept my condolences. If you are the last of their line, I hope you are busy finding yourself a wife.”
“In time,” Victor said. A hard edge had entered his voice. “Though matters here must be settled first before I take a lovely bride’s hand in marriage. As a child, Veldaren was my home. Now I return, and I wish it to be my home again. But one does not move into a house full of rats and turn a blind eye to their droppings.”
“Be careful of who you call rat shit in this town,” Edwin said, laughing. “It might get you in trouble.”
His laughter died off uneasily as Victor stared at him with those clear blue eyes of his. It wasn’t just strength he saw in them. No, what he saw was madness, and it was starting to unnerve him.
“Fine,” he said, suddenly no longer having fun. He sat up, took another sip from his cup. “You’ve made plain your desire to clean up this city, though I have yet to hear how you will do it. So tell me, Victor. Let me hear your amazing plan.”
“There is nothing amazing about it,” Victor said. He crossed his arms over his chest, tilted his head back. “I have over three hundred mercenaries at my disposal, committed to my cause. They will aid me in this endeavor.”
“Your lands cannot be large. How can you afford them all?”
“There is always coin available for what a man cares about most.”
Edwin rolled his eyes and gestured for the man to continue.
“I know what it is you’re thinking,” Victor said, starting to pace. “You think I will unleash them like wild dogs, just like Lady Gemcroft did years before. I tell you now that that is wrong. I do not do this for destruction, nor a desire for killing. I will not slaughter life at random, nor pronounce a colored cloak reason enough for death. I will abide by the law, my King. That is all I truly desire from you. Give me your blessing to enforce your laws. These guilds may no longer rob from your stores, but their hands are far from clean.”
“And what do you expect from all this? A reward?”
“A home where I can live without fear will be my reward,” Victor said, smiling. “That, and for you to cover the cost of the mercenaries, should I succeed.”
“You ask for much while claiming to ask for little,” Gerand said, and Edwin had to agree.
“What makes you so confident you can accomplish this task?” the King asked.
“The blood of the underworld will spill across your executioner’s blade,” Victor said. “Brought before your judges, lawfully condemned in your trials, and their bodies dumped into pits beyond your walls. Fear is how they have endured for so long, but I am not afraid of them. I fear nothing.”
Laughter interrupted their conversation. Edwin felt his throat tighten, and he looked to his left. There, in a tall window at least twenty feet above the ground, crouched a figure cloaked in gray.
How in Karak’s name did he get up there? he wondered.
“Come to join us, Watcher?” Edwin asked.
“I’m quite content to stay here,” the Watcher said, turning his attention to Victor. “You truly think fear is how the thief guilds have endured? Fear is just the whetstone that sharpens their blades. Razor wire and poisoned cups are how they have endured. They fill their ranks with those desperate enough to kill just to have food in their bellies. You want to defeat the thief guilds? Flood the streets with bread, not soldiers.”
“For a man of such reputation, you are incredibly naive,” said Victor. He didn’t seem upset with the Watcher, only vaguely amused. “You think a little bit of milk and bread will sate their appetites? The guilds are full of men who will always want more than what they have. You used your blades to cull them, and took the gold of others to make them content. Your way is failing. You do not spoil a rotten child. You beat his ass with a rod.”
Victor turned to the King, who chewed on his lip. This lord was fiery, devoted, and quick-witted. He truly seemed unafraid of making enemies, for few would have dared speak to the Watcher in such a manner. Even the Watcher looked surprised.
“Do not be afraid,” Victor said, putting his back to the Watcher. “I have come as Veldaren’s savior, and am prepared for the burden. Let it all be cast on me. Let it be my name the thieves hear. Let them know I am the one enforcing your laws. There is nothing for you to lose. Noble, beggar, merchant, thief…all will come to justice. The coin I ask for in return is a pittance compared to what you gain. Give me your blessing.”