Chapter 312: Ducal Reunion
Claudia strode into her private chambers, leaving her guards outside, shut the door, and collapsed into an overstuffed chair her husband had made. It was made from the leather of a mountain Naga the two of them had killed twenty years ago when they were both knights. The tough Naga hide was nearly impossible to damage. They'd trapped it in a pit and drowned it, then carted off the body to the dwarves living in the mountains to skin and turn into furniture. After Claudia had destroyed three of his favorite chairs from armor tears, he had commissioned this one for her. The ugly chair had held up to the abuse without a scratch.
He brought her a chilled glass of wine and sat across from her, sipping his own. "Good trip, dear? You stayed out late and traveled back fast, so I assumed you were enjoying yourself. And I heard you stopped either a riot or an invasion a moment after you arrived. Something about boobytrapped barrels of sausage?"
She sighed. "Carl, in normal times, if a powerful Tier 4 person teleported to the city and politely stood still, what should happen?"
The Duke looked at his wife, sensing a trick question. "Nothing? A warm welcome?"
"Correct. Nothing. And yet, today, the mage in charge sounded the alarm because he didn't like the sausage I had ordered and didn't like the look of the Butcher delivering it. He overreacted because of the stupid grudge the Mage's Guild holds against the Barony of Gadobhra. It could easily have ended in tragedy. And worse, a political nightmare if one of Baron Williams's most valuable people was ambushed and killed in our city."
Carl blinked twice. "Bloody Hells? How?"
"The man was bringing a wagon of enchanted sausage I purchased for the company. The stuff is a Tier 3 food loaded with mana and buffs. It's ideal for the company and as food for a long siege. Good enough that I ordered a thousand barrels; this was just the first shipment. The Butcher didn't threaten them other than standing by his wagon. And yet, four mages launched magical attacks against him. Two from the second Tier, one from the third Tier, and a Tier four Senior Mage. I was in time to stop the guard from charging as well. We'd have been holding funerals for sure if that happened."
"They killed him, I assume. Or did he survive? You said he was powerful."
"He is quite powerful. The Great Kallvek told me several stories about him. And he's one of the people that visited the Smoke. Kallvek said he came back much stronger. He's only Tier 3, but my Threat Assessment skill keeps warning me that he's more powerful than that. He had the mage spooked just by standing there. It was a perfect storm of idiocy and paranoia. The City Guard is on high alert for the Emperor's visit. The mage in charge of the teleport stone was tired and annoyed with me for bringing the company through with little notice."
"Well,..." She hesitated, then forged onward. "No, he had a request. It seemed very logical at the time."
"Oh, he had other demands. Of course, he did. How much gold?"
She shook her head. "None. He didn't want to be bribed. He doesn't want a repeat of the problem. He's worried about our local burghers interfering with deliveries and upset that the Mage's Guild is charging extra for travel to his area. I don't blame him at all for that. First, they claim to be upset that Baron William is giving away mana, and now they are stressed that they don't have enough. When the Butcher heard that, he offered to help out himself." She paused, remembering the look on the faces of the mages near the teleporter when they saw the mana level go up and up. "Now that was funny. You should have seen the mages when the Butcher and the Princes dumped ten-thousand mana into the stone. Some of them almost died of jealousy right then and there. He didn't know whether to be envious, grateful or pissed that it was mana from Sedgewick."
The Duke sighed. "You're right. Stupid. The offer from Baron William seems generous, and the talk of 'putting mages out of work' seems silly when they can't keep the system running. We'll have to address the issue in the next court. But first, I want to get this party out of the way. I love Gus like a brother, but visiting all four Ducal Capitols in one day? Madness. He will be exhausted when he gets here for his last round of cake, presents, and court sycophants."
Claudia heaved herself out of her chair and finished her drink. "Good. Because a lot is going on in our most northern Barony that I think is good for the province. There has to be some compromise to stop some of this silliness before things escalate. Luckily, we have time. Baron William has his hands full building a fortress. From what I saw in Sedgewick, he is concentrating on improving his lands. I don't look for him to escalate this little trade war before that is finished. I'm sure you can keep the hot-heads down here from doing anything silly."
Carl rose as well. "We have to. An incident like this is horrible. And I don't think those Princes came along to sightsee. As I read it, Baron William wanted to cement the sale of the sausages and impress us with his delivery time. He sent three incredibly strong people to make the delivery. And the Princes were a message that he has powerful allies. I'm becoming scared of just how bad this encounter could have gone. You kept it from becoming a political nightmare."
Claudia hadn't considered those things. Carl always saw the subtle political maneuvers. The Duke held the door to their bedroom for her as she entered and began to strip off her plate armor and toss it into a corner. "One more question; I notice you didn't mention what you did to placate the Butcher."
She shrugged. "One or more guilds will complain, but I don't care. He asked for something sensible. He wanted an official Ducal Dispensation to sell his wares in our city and not have to deal with guild permits and import penalties for using the teleporter system. He offered to provide the mana for all of his shipments. I thought that was reasonable. We're already buying all the sausages he can make, and I have another order in for bacon."
"A wagonload of hams on St. Swithin's day or a stall selling sausage-on-a-stick is the least we can do to apologize for trying to kill him."