Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Lansius stepped inside the medieval manor house, his senses filled with awe. The great hall was immense and filled with long wooden tables and benches that may accommodate thirty or forty people with ease. The high ceiling made the air feel clean, not stale, dusty, or moldy.

At the hall’s far end, Lansius saw a raised platform, likely the high table where the host would sit. However, it was the big glass window upstairs that caught his attention the most, letting in warm, sunny light that filled the great hall with a gentle glow.

As the page boy led him farther into the manor, Lansius noticed a group of servants moving about their daily tasks, too preoccupied to take notice of him. Behind them, two guardsmen trailed them from a distance.

Soon, the page boy escorted Lansius into an antechamber, a place where a guest could wait or rest. “The steward will be here shortly—please make yourself, mm . . . comfortable,” he stammered. “Oh, there’s water in the basin and a washcloth.” The pageboy tried his hardest to deliver his line.

“Gratitude, I’ll be waiting here.” Lansius smiled and the page boy hurriedly left.

Lansius saw the bench, a small table, and the stone basin.

Better to clean up.

Custom dictated the guest wash their face and hands before meeting a respectable host, but Lansius wanted to go above and beyond to show that he wasn’t a country bumpkin. After all, he was Lord Arte’s squire. Disguised or not, he needed to keep a good appearance, not tarnish his lord’s name.

With that in mind, he changed out of his traveling clothes and into a deep blue doublet he had taken from Sabina Rustica. Although it was a little loose around the waist, he could easily fix that with his belt.

He wrapped the sword belt around his waist and suddenly felt nostalgic for his long-lost friend, but he quickly dismissed the sentiment. Today wasn’t the time to reminisce about the past.

Just then, a servant knocked and entered before Lansius could reply. A young boy appeared and bowed deeply. “Maester, I’ll clean your boots.”

Lansius was taken aback. He had never had this treatment before. “Um, what should I do?”

“Just stand there, maester,” the boy replied energetically as he scrubbed Lansius’s boots with a horsehair brush.

Lansius couldn’t help but feel uneasy about the child labor, but the boy looked happy, with chubby cheeks, clean clothes, and good manners.

He probably received an education and a better job than most Arvenians . . . probably also sleeps in a comfortable bed.

Lansius briefly pondered the morality of it, but shook his head. He wasn’t here to judge.

The boy quietly left, closing the door behind him after finishing his task.

After enduring a grueling two-week journey by cart and foot, Lansius finally found himself alone in the waiting chamber. He let out a deep sigh as he lowered himself onto the bench, feeling the weight of exhaustion settling heavily upon him. With a tired hand, he took out his waterskin and took a long swig of water before settling in to wait.

As the sun began to set, the manor sprang to life with bustling activity. Lansius, now cleaned up and refreshed, could imagine that a feast was taking place in the great hall, as was customary for feudal nobles.

The lord of this manor may have been just a baronet, but it was clear to everyone who saw it that Toruna was a rich, fertile land. It beggared belief that someone who wasn’t a baron could own such a grand estate. Meaning, the baronet of Toruna was either a rising star at Midlandia’s court, or old money.

A much older gentleman appeared at the door. “Excuse me, maester. The baronet requests your presence at dinner.”

Lansius rose from his seat. “Please, call me Lansius. I’m just a clerk turned squire.”

The old steward smiled warmly, but remained silent as he led Lansius up an elegant staircase and through a series of corridors that eventually brought them to a private dining hall. It was smaller and more intimate than the great hall, but no less impressive.

Though they were on the second floor, the ceiling was high, and two beautiful chandeliers illuminated the space with an unflickering white light that was brighter than any candles Lansius had ever seen. The walls were plastered evenly and painted bright colors.

At this time of year, the room was furnished with colorful tapestries depicting scenes of battles and hunting. One in particular intrigued Lansius, a small green tapestry that illustrated what looked like dwarves and their underground citadels.

Regrettably, he couldn’t approach the tapestry out of respect to his host. Nevertheless, he marveled at the room’s other features, including murals, painted statues, and two gorgeous suits of armor.

Cold sweat ran down Lansius’s back. He could already taste the rotting dungeon, the stench of piss and decay.

The two bickered in private, leaving Lansius standing nervously as if waiting for his judgment. They were still at it when the three servants arrived with silver platters.

The servants brought a variety of appetizing dishes. Lansius spotted roasted meat, aromatic stews, sweet and tasty puddings, and an assortment of freshly baked bread. One of them also poured him a generous amount of pale ale in a beautiful silver goblet.

With his fate uncertain, Lansius decided to eat and drink as much as he could before rotting away in the dungeon.

“My guest!” the baronet yelled suddenly, making Lansius’s heart skip a beat. “We have reached a consensus.”

“Y-yes, my good sir,” Lansius steeled his heart as the baronet in red and the lady in black watched his every move.

“On behalf of Lord Bengrieve, I’m going to give Lady Audrey to you,” the baronet guffawed at his own silly joke and jumped from his seat. He was just in time as the lady picked a handful of green grapes from the table and threw it at him.

“That’s not how it goes!” the lady complained as Sir Stan dodged the grapes. She snatched up a nearby cup of wine and hurled its contents at her brother, who was surprised but stayed put. He seemed to accept the splash, but before the wine could hit him, a gust of wind blew out of nowhere.

The baronet smirked in triumph as he saw the wine spray back onto the lady, drenching her as if she were a cat caught in a downpour.

Magic!

Lansius was uncertain of what to do or say, but he slowly scanned the room, taking in the scene around him. He had heard of mysterious individuals, known as mages, who wielded magical powers. If someone like Sir Stan could employ one, it meant that he held great influence despite his low rank.

The guards and the servants were struggling to suppress their chuckles, while the steward and squire appeared uninterested. However, Lansius could not spot any visible signs of the mage. He felt foolish; he had been expecting to see someone with a long beard, wielding a staff and wearing a pointy hat. In truth, he had no idea what a mage looked like.

“Fine,” the lady spat, after her humiliation.

Sensing the tension in the air, the baronet attempted to defuse the situation. “Lady . . . let’s be civil,” he suggested. When it didn’t seem to have the desired effect, he added a gentle threat. “Or else I’ll have to confine you to your room . . . without alcohol.”

“Drop the pretense, we’re not related!” she snapped back, before pointing her finger at Lansius. “Let him out, or hand him over as my retinue, and we’ll call it even.”

Lansius squinted his eyes at this new development.

“Are you going to hurt him?” Sir Stan asked playfully.

The lady merely grunted in response.

Upon hearing this, the baronet clapped his hands twice and exclaimed, “Deal!” before quickly adding, “Now, let’s eat.”

Merriment erupted on his command. The troubadours took center stage, playing a lively tune. The baronet, as if famished, dipped a pretzel into the stew and devoured it. Ironically, despite his command, only the lady in black and Lansius were joining him at the table. The others in the room were merely in waiting.

Meanwhile, Lansius repeated the words that had been echoing in his mind.

Did I hear that right? Hand me over. . . is this some kind of feudal employment, but on what grounds?

Clearly, Sir Stan’s earlier comment about giving the lady to Lansius was in jest. However, their final decision for him didn’t seem like one. Nonetheless, Lansius’s limited understanding of noble etiquette meant he couldn’t be certain and needed to seek advice before reacting. Otherwise, he could offend them.

The lady in black, after having some assistance from a maid, approached Lansius. “Eat,” she commanded coldly.

“Yes, my lady,” Lansius answered despite the many unanswered questions in his mind.

“I’ll meet you after,” the lady announced, making it clear she wouldn’t be partaking in the dinner. With those words, she pivoted and departed, her veil swishing behind her, radiating an air of determination.