The Count’s parlor was a study in frontier luxury. Thick wool pile carpets covered the stone floor, while the walls likewise were covered in tapestries depicting the count’s more celebrated deeds.

  Beside and intermixed with the tapestries were the skulls of large and unique beasts and twisted or broken weapons from some past conquest. A knee-high table to the center held pride of place, already bedecked with condensation-dotted ewers and platters of finger foods. Grilled meats, vegetables and even olives, the first he’d seen of them this far north, on skewers sat beside the local white cheeses that Ethan had fast fallen in love with.

  Beside the table sat a series of padded backless curule chairs, no reclining eating couches here. Just as well, they were quite uncomfortable in armor.

  And as every man in the room, including the Count’s elderly Seneschal, was armored this became far more important than aping heartland customs. The count in particular wore a silver chased set of plate that sang of enchantments to Ethan's senses. Polished to a fault, it proudly bore small patches and scars. Repaired but not hidden. Marks of valor and proof of what kind of man sat before them. He’d removed his cape and his helm sat on a sideboard against the wall, but that was as far as he unbent even in the heart of his power.

  Ethan approved. This was a fighting man and no minor example of it either.

  “Wine Baronet? From my personal reserve and you won’t have tasted as fine. And you as well, sa-Baronetess?”

  Both accepted the chilled chalices of amber colored liquid with real pleasure. Ermina going so far as to grin like a child as she smelled the vintage. A fact the count noticed with satisfaction, a small smile gracing his lips. His eyes flittered up as Guile took his place at the wall behind them, removing himself from the conversation and watching the count's men who stood opposite.

  Not that it would do him much good. Both were 3rd Tier if Ethan was any judge and while Guile was good, that was a hell of a slope to fight up. Much less two to one.

  “What did you think of the Court, Baronet?”

  “It was… educational. I was spared the Duke of Obstegartenfeld's court on the way through.” The count didn’t even try to hide his disgust at the duke’s name. “But I’ve heard it takes all of a day, and maybe several to accomplish very little. Yours was refreshingly brief. Succinct even.”

  The Count snorted. “The Duke likes to play dress up and to have his self-importance elevated by relentless fawning. I’ve a job to get done and I’d just as soon it didn’t take up any more of my time than it must.”

  Ethan nodded with no little admiration.

  “And that brings us to my point in inviting you here. This is not the Riverlands. Nor even the northern portion where your lovely wife hails from-“ He gave her a genial nod “-where they at least remember they are warriors. Not just slave drivers.”

  “No, we have less time for elaborate customs and ceremonies when we must ever be on watch. We can’t afford the luxury of drawn-out negotiations and lengthy deliberations. This is a land of action. But also one of unity.”

  He took a measured sip of wine. “I imagine you’ve heard the tale before this, but the case of the five barons today should have driven it home. It takes cooperation to survive here. And your new mountain fast even more so. We’ve little enough information on what exists up there. Just the occasional hunting party or band of adventurers. And most of those don’t make it back. It won’t be kind.”

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Ethan nodded his head. That at least they could agree on. “I’ve read what reports are available, I am prepared for the challenges.”

  “Are you?” The count leaned forward easily waving a hand at Ethan's forming objection. “I’ve no doubt as to either your bravery or acumen. But without knowing, without experiencing the sheer weight of beast and rift monster that will come your way, I don’t think you can be.”

  “And that is where I come in. You don’t have to do this alone. With my support and the barons of The Forest to support you, a gamble to survive could turn into a secure, valuable fief in merely a generation.”

  “My lord count is offering..?” Ethan trailed off leadingly.

  “A century of experienced men to clear the beasts up to and around your settlement. I can’t spare them for the winter of course, but they can at least help you get situated. Favorable trade status for a half decade while you get your feet under you and the support of your closest neighbors in the closing of any small rifts. My Personal help in any medium rifts, Brundi forbid.”

  He considered for a moment then shrugged. “And food resupply should you need it in the spring.”

  “And in exchange?”

  “Fealty.” The count's tone bore no artifice nor flexibility. This was not up for negotiation. Ethan nodded; some would say that wasn’t much for all that was offered. Others, that it was everything! Ethan was in the latter group. The count didn’t need to ask for more.

  Ethan sighed. It was actually a good deal, and the man was a damn fine commander and an effective prospective liege. If their circumstances, and core, had been other than they were, he might just jump at the opportunity.

  But they weren’t and it wasn’t. And that meant he had to decline gracefully. A task of considerable difficulty.

  “A very generous offer, Count Marcellus.” Ethan spoke slowly, but attempting to place true sincerity into his words. And they were indeed sincere! “Allow me a short digression. I’ve found that as I travel farther away from the capital, and even more from the remains of the Demon invasion, attitudes shift. People revere the Emperor still, but they don’t venerate him like we did.”

  “Like we do. His light guided us through the dark times and now out into the light. May it always shine on us.” Ethan, his back stiff and head held high he stared into the counts eyes. “He has given me a title, and his protection for at least a score of years. And all I have to do in return is stay out of the politicking. This I can do. This I will do.”

  The count grunted, tapping his fingers on the table for a time. Then shrugged. “May his light shine on us.” He spoke the benediction without Ethan's true belief, perhaps, but it wasn’t muttered or sullen either. “An interesting perspective, young Baronet, and not one I’ve heard before. Nor is it one I can easily argue against.”

  “Well played. But can you hold on to it?”

  “With minor rifts? Of a certainty. With small rifts? Depends on how soon they occur.” Ethan admitted easily. “For a medium? I do believe the Emperor’s mandate will see that we receive support.”

  The count chuckled easily. Indeed. What he offered, in part at least, he already owed as part of his fealty to the Emperor. Of course, the demon was always in the details. Enthusiastic support was a far cry from reluctant. A fief could get ground into dust while armies were carefully marshaled. It had happened before and not a few times either.

  Still, the choice was made. “Then let me raise a glass to your courage, young Baronet. May Tycelus smile on your fief and bless you with good fortune.” And he did, raising and draining the wine that was far to good for such usage. Forcing Ethan and Ermina to do the same, though she winced in slight emotional pain.

  Then he grinned at them, a wolf’s grin. “Just not too much good fortune.”

  ____

  Later that night as they lay in the steaming water of the baths, flushed and breathing heavily Ermina finally could hold it in no longer. “It was a very fair offer.” She spoke tentatively.

  Ethan sighed. He had no desire to lie to his wife. But some truths could not be spoken. “It was.” He agreed, pulling her exhausted and bare body to him, setting her in his lap with his head resting on her shoulder.

  “But… there are things you don’t know. Things that I won’t speak of outside my own land.” He offered softly, breathing into her ear. For every privacy skill, there was an eavesdropping one.

  “That’s somewhat paranoid, My Lord.”

  “The best way for two men to keep a secret is if one of them is dead, My lady. The next best way is to never speak of it. Not to one another, not to anyone.”

  She leaned back against him and leaned her head to the side, kissing his ear softly before whispering. “It’s hard to offer good advice without having all the information.”

  Ethan turned his head and kissed her back. What else could he say? She was right.

  His hands began to move, spawning a gasp.

  So better to not speak at all.

  ___