Thirty Five: Knife's Edge

I rose with the dawn and dressed, leaving my sword and freshly cleaned armor behind.The camp in the courtyard was mostly silent and the sentry’s turned their heads to watch my path.

Lord Dacon stood apart from his guard, his gaze fixed on the horizon beyond the wall.

“It’s magnificent isn’t it?” He asked.

“It is my Lord. But I don’t think you called me here to watch the sunrise.”

Lord Dacon smirked.

“No indeed. Come, and walk with me. I have somewhere I’d like you to see.”

With that, he turned and strode away, followed closely by three of his household guards. I followed after, walking at his side.

“No doubt you’re aware that your change in status comes with not a few caveats,” he said.

“You are expected to not only act the part but to look the part as well. Court expectations may seem frivolous to you and I couldn’t fault you for that. However, I believe that you will play a much larger political role than you might think. And impressions are everything.”

We turned a corner and the Guardsman on patrol bowed to Lord Dacon.

“What makes you think so, My Lord?” I asked, genuinely curious. Dacon seemed to consider the question.

“It is rare for one to manifest Gifted powers so quickly. Many don’t find that they possess skills until they surpass level 30. You however, gained power before you reached 20. That is not only impressive, but it is a strong indicator that your true power has yet to be tapped into.”

I glanced around, recognizing the path I had taken toward the bathhouses. Instead of descending into Center City, however, Lord Dacon led us out and onto the wide main road.

“And you believe that will make me a target.” I guessed.

Dacon nodded. “Not so much a target perhaps, but there will be a lot of scrutiny on you moving forward. Tonight, a banquet will be held in order to honor Lord Blackthorne’s ascension to Spear of the King. You will be expected there, and will likely be a hot topic of conversation among the court of Ceris.”

I grimaced and Dacon laughed at the expression.

“You’ll get used to it Will, believe me.”

We stopped outside of shop with a painted green door and a brass bell. Several moments later the door opened and a man with bushy eyebrows bowed so low to Lord Dacon that his hat toppled off.

“Welcome my Lord, you are most welcome indeed.” Said the man excitedly. “Please come in, I have much to show you.”

His assistant held open the door and Dacon turned to his guard.

“Wait outside,” he commanded them. “Assure that no one enters the premises until we are done here.”

Then he stepped inside, and I followed after. The shop window was filled with mannequins of all shapes and sizes dressed in elegant clothing. On the wall, cloth of all colors hung on wooden spools. A seamstress worked in the back room, stopping her work only to bow to Lord Dacon.

The Tailor beamed at us.

“I was delighted to hear you would be coming my Lord. Why, I have just the thing for you. The finest silks in your household colors? Or perhaps a new jupon with custom gold thread embroidery? I think you’ll find our selection to be quite extensive.”

Lord Dacon waited for the Tailor’s excited chatter to die away before he turned and swept out a hand.

“I am not here today for myself, but for a dear friend. This is Ser William, a Knight of the realm. I want you to cloth and outfit him for his appearance at court.”

The Tailor’s eyes slid to me, and he blinked a few times as if he only realized I was standing there.

“I…. Yes of course,” he said quickly. “Ser William, eh? I’ll have to take your measurements of course, and the timeline is, well, a bit accelerated. But nothing I can’t do, no sir.”

I was ushered into a back room and made to stand on a stool where my measurements were taken by the seamstress. Then came the parade of clothing.

“It is,” said the Tailor, carefully choosing his words. “Typical for a knight to have his own colors and coat of arms. May I ask what your preferred colors are?”

I hesitated. I hadn’t given this much thought and the question caught me off guard. I thought of the banners that flew on the battlefield. Lord Blackthorne, with a horse on black and red, and Lord Dacon, with his household blue and gold.

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My Banner and coat of arms needed to be something unique and recognizable. It would send a message and set the stage for how I wanted to be viewed - both as a man and a soldier.

The Tailor waited with quill in hand. Finally I turned my head.

“A black boar,” I said. “On a field of Gold.”

The Tailor glanced up at me then, his eyes appraising. “A strong choice,” he said thoughtfully. “And a good one. A boar is often underestimated, but they are dangerous creatures if riled. They can kill a man as surely as any beast or monster.”

He nodded, quill scratching the parchment. “Understood Ser William. I can assure you that your livery will be ready by sundown. In the meantime please feel free to peruse my shop.”

I hesitated.

“How much will this cost me?” I asked. At the hesitation in my voice the Tailor laughed.

“Forgive me Ser Knight, but before he left Lord Dacon had already paid the bill in advance. He said in no uncertain terms that his friend was not to pay a copper.”

An hour later I left the shop with four new sets of clothes in my inventory, and a new set on my person. I was wearing a russet brown tunic with dark trousers and a gilded silver belt. All in all, I felt like a new man.

What’s more, I felt like a man others would respect. The Guardsman treated me differently, glancing at me and nodding as I passed.

It wasn’t until I turned the corner into a back street that I felt a strange pressure at my hip.

“Sorry sir,” said a young boy as he bumped into me. His face was friendly, if a bit dirty and he smiled apologetically. He made to turn away but I grabbed his wrist and held him fast.

“I think,” I said as he stared up at me wide eyed. “That you have my coin purse.”

The boy’s face grew sheepish and he pulled my leather purse out from under his tunic where it had been concealed.

“Sorry sir, I didn’t mean no harm, honest. Don’t call the guards on me.”

I paused, thinking. It was possible that the boy was a lone pickpocket, but I had learned when I first arrived in this world that pickpockets were often part of a much larger organization.

If I played my cards right, I might be able to use this to my advantage.

“I won’t,” I said. “If you help me in return.” Sᴇaʀch* Thᴇ N0vᴇlFire(.)nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of nøvels early and in the highest quality.

The boy gave me a wary look. Passersby were starting to stare and I drew him to the side undercover of the building.

Reaching into my purse I gave him a silver coin, and watched his eyes grow round.

“I’m looking for something called The Winds of Autumn. Have you heard of it?”

The boy let out a squeak and his eyes darted around nervously.

“Begging your pardon sir, but it’s best not to speak his name in the open. They say he has eyes everywhere and I don’t want no trouble.”

He? So the Winds of Autumn was a man and a dangerous one. Interesting.

“I need to get a message to him,” I said. “Can you do that for me?” The boy nodded his head.

“Wait here, sir.”

He darted away down an alleyway, disappearing around the corner. I leaned against the wall, arms folded and trying not to look out of place. As the minutes ticked by, I wondered if I had just made a stupid mistake.

The boy could have just as easily have taken the coin and left me here to wait. But after nearly half an hour his scruffy head peaked back out of the alleyway.

“I have a message for you, sir,” he said. “He says you are to meet him in the garden maze on the grounds of the House of Refuge at midnight.

I paused, waiting for more.

“Is that all?”

The boy shook his head. “He says if you’re late, he’ll kill you, sir.”

***

I arrived back to the courtyard with minutes to spare. Ser Connel waited impatiently beside a dark carriage pulled by tall grey horses. He was dressed in his own livery, a tower on a field of green and nodded to me as I approached.

“About time, Blackbriar. I had assumed you’d gone and gotten yourself offed in some alley.”

No, I thought. That was for tonight.

“My apologies Ser Connel. I made a visit to the Tailor.”

"I can see that". Ser Connel eyed me thoughtfully, his eyes snagging on the black boar pendant that clasped my dark cloak to my shoulders.

I was wearing a black military coat, embroidered at the neck and wrists in gold stitching. Knee high black boots with silver toes seemed to pinch my feet every time I walked. There was no doubt that the clothes were of a fine make, but I felt out of place in them. An imposter among men of rank.

The footman got down from the rear and opened the door. I stepped in and ended up having to wrestle my cloak when it caught on the door.

“Damn thing,” I muttered, sweeping it impatiently aside. Ser Connel seemed amused. The carriage pulled past the second wall and continued up the cobblestone path towards the domed House of Refuge.

No doubt, the irony of the palace’s name was the fact that its own people were barred from the safety of the city.

“It feels a bit ridiculous to be going to a dinner when there's a war on,” I said finally, breaking the silence. Ser Connel glanced at me.

“It’s the calm before the storm,” he said. “Enjoy it while you can lad. Once the Ork Host arrives, the siege could last for days.”

I grimaced.

“How many Orks are there?”

Ser Connel shrugged.

“Our reports are several weeks old, but the rumors say that four of the six tribes have united. If that’s the case, the numbers would probably be somewhere around six or seven thousand.”

“Seven thousand?” I said incredulously. “Just how many men does Ceris’s garrison hold?”

Ser Connel shrugged again.

“Maybe fifteen hundred, at most. Our forces under Lord Blackthorne’s banner bring that number up to two thousand.”

My stomach plummeted as I considered those numbers. If these numbers were anywhere approaching accurate we could be facing nothing short of a slaughter.

Ser Connel sighed.

“Now you understand our predicament. Still, siege warfare is an entirely different beast. Ours is a war of attrition, now. Our Scouts will harry the host, wearing them down until they reach the walls. Ceris itself has a ballista and an entire company of archers. The Ork's will not find it easy to take the city."

I had my doubts but with no other choice than to await the coming storm, I lapsed into silence.

The carriage drew up in front of the House of Refuge and moments later the footman opened the door.

I kept a hand on my sword as I stepped out of the carriage, noting my surroundings. Lord Dacon, his knights, and his household representatives stood before the steps to the great hall.

Blackthorne and his retinue waited at the steps. I bowed to Lord Blackthorne in the courtly fashion, cloak swirling around my shoulders.

“My Lord,” I said. Blackthorne looked me over once and nodded his approval.

“Ser William,” he said. “I had rather hoped you’d join us. You are about to entire a nest of Vipers. Are you quite prepared?”

I grimaced.

“I doubt it, My Lord.”

Blackthorne grinned.

“The right answer,” he said. “My only advice is this. Don’t let them bite you. And whatever you do,” he leaned in. “Don’t drink the wine.”

He swept past me up the steps and I blinked, processing what he had said. The wine? What did he mean?

I followed after him and together or procession faced the tall brass double doors that led to the mouth of the beast.