Chapter 4
Roland stayed in his room and thought. Should he trust this duke who was a mage? What of Gorman? The betrayal hurt him the most. His trusted mentor and friend. Withholding teaching! Roland sighed. He would let the duke make the judgment. If he did not like the judgment, then he could plan accordingly. He didn't know what he would do, but there had to be something!
At the palace in Frontek, the king was having a discussion with his advisors. The storm was finally showing signs of breaking. His people were in need of help, particularly the poor.
King Frontek ordered that when the weather permitted, the southern storehouses should be opened, and grain given to all who needed it. It would be some time before the roads were passable. His people would need the grain to survive.
King Frontek was dreading the arrival of Duke Taft. Duke Taft's line went back as far, and even farther than did the king's. It was the Taft's who had originally settled this area. It had been a bone of contention between the two families for almost two hundred years. It did not help that the current Duke Taft was the son of the very first Duke Taft. Damned magic users, and their long lives!
The only thing keeping Duke Taft from attacking King Frontek was the Taft's sense of honor. While King Frontek was not personally afraid of Taft; he knew that politically, Duke Taft had strong supporters.
A little over two hundred years ago, the then Duke Taft had responded to old King Brennen's call to arms. All had responded. Everyone, with the exception of King Frontek's ancestors, had marched south to the old king's aid. King Frontek's ancestor had been charged with keeping this area safe.
The old king and his friends had been slaughtered. When a suitable period of mourning had gone by, the then Lord Frontek, had proclaimed himself king. Slowly, over the years, the Kings Frontek had expanded the old kingdom into todays.
Unfortunately, the old Duke Taft had survived. He had been wounded, and when he came back to find that Frontek had usurped his place, he was very angry. However, the country was healing. Taft agreed that he and his family would support the newly proclaimed king, with provisions.
The Taft lands would never be taxed by the Frontek kings. The Tafts would always have final say on the council, in the event the council deadlocked. With those provisions signed and in his pocket, Duke Taft turned to his ancestral lands to the south. He started them on their way to what they were now.
"Do we have enough members of the council present to call a meeting?" asked the king as he paced his private chambers.
"No, your majesty. Only three of the council made it in, before the worst of the snow blocked the roads," answered his chamberlain.
Sighing, the king clasped his hands behind his back, and peered out a frosted window.
"Are you sure that the snow is stopping? It appears to me to still be as strong as ever," the king asked.
"The wizard's guild has assured us that this storm is almost ended. You were right in thinking it was sent by the northerners. By the time it arrived, almost all trace of magic was gone.
"Guildmaster Owens said the northerners started this storm far out at sea, collecting moisture for this blizzard. By the time it arrived, most of the magic controlling and guiding it was gone. It took three weather masters to gain even that much information," answered the chamberlain.
Nodding, the king responded, "Well, in this one way am I glad that Taft comes. Perhaps he can deal with these damned northerners. He was ever the kingdoms staunchest defender," the king said, smiling.
"Berandal, I am sorry for your son. I understand his anger. I promise you, I have not made any decision as of this time. I, too, was shocked when I heard what had happened. I do understand the guild's reasoning at the time, but that time has gone by," the duke told Berandal in a sad voice.
"I told my son that I would support whatever choice he made, your grace. He is young and has the idealism of youth. A few more years of life will see him grow in his understanding that all is not simply black and white. I fear we are treading here, into shades of gray. Those can be hard to discern on occasion," Berandal said heavily.
"You surprise me! That was a very astute observation for... sorry. I was about to say for one of your station. Forgive me," the duke said, then bowed to Berandal.
"No offense taken. You know nothing of my past, except that my son stumbled onto a fortune. For all you knew, I was the unlettered country bumpkin you assumed me to be," Berandal said with a chuckle.
Duke Taft guffawed loudly. "I assure you, I will never think that again! Well struck, Sir!" the duke said, and then was off into gales of laughter again.
They had just calmed down, and Berandal was getting them both another mug of spiced wine, when Roland entered. He went straight to the duke, and bowed jerkily.
"I will let you make judgment. I hope I have not betrayed myself in choosing you, your grace," Roland said in a still angry voice.
Duke Taft eyed Roland for a moment. Roland became uncomfortable under that gaze.
"I understand your anger. However you misplace it. Now then, if you will give me a moment, I will summon Gorman. We will soon have this matter resolved," the duke said.
He then went silent as he mentally summoned the wizard. The wizard appeared with a crack of displaced air, as he teleported into the room. He bowed to everyone, and asked what was wished of him.
"Roland has asked me to adjudge this matter for him. Be it known that my word is binding to all. Do you understand, Gorman?" the duke asked in a voice that seemed to hold a quiet, yet none-the-less potent, power.
"I do, and I accept," Gorman said, bowing again.
"Do you agree to accept my judgment and agree to its binding?" the duke asked of Roland in that same 'voice of power'.
Roland, feeling the power crackle, answered with a strangled, "Yes."
"Then here is my judgment. The guild was at first within their rights to treat with young Roland cautiously. However, it had been demonstrated with time and with spells, that he is not a danger, nor is his mind still host to anything other than his own thoughts and self. He is not possessed.
"I order the guild to pay reparations of forty percent of what Roland has already paid for his training. Furthermore, the guild will finish the remaining training that Roland is due, free. So... As I say, so shall it be," the duke said ominously.
As he finished speaking, he clapped his hands together, and there was a huge crack of thunder! Roland felt as if something settled into him, and he would have sworn he saw something similar settle into Gorman!
"Well! That is done, then, and well done. Now comes the part of forgiveness. Let me order up a cask of that special wine I got at the fair, last year. It will be perfect for toasting this occasion," Berandal said, pleased.
So it was that all three sat. Soon they were joined by the duchess, who had felt the completion of the spell that her husband had cast. It was a type of oath spell that both parties would find impossible to break.
While Roland still harbored some ill feelings towards his old mentor and the guild, he was willing to try to put them aside. Gorman sensed this, and let Roland set his own pace on how to resume their friendship.
True, it had been damaged; but Gorman really liked Roland and his family, and genuinely regretted what had gone before. He spoke quietly to Duke Taft about guild matters, and hoped that Roland would forgive quickly.
"I have spoken with my husband on a matter which you and your son might find interesting, Berandal," the duchess Taft said softly.
"Yes, now might be the right time," the duke said. "You and your son are not sworn to any Lord, as of this time?"
"No. I am a freeman, as is my son. I did serve as a Forester for a time, but that job has long been over with," Berandal said with a sigh.
"I would like to offer you a Patent of Nobility. I would make you a baron. The Baron Berandal Talvon, Lord of the Barony of Talvon. Besides retaining the lands you have bought to the north, you would no longer be obligated to pay taxes to the king. None of the lords who swear fealty to me, pay the king's land taxes. The only taxes you would pay are to the Duchy of Taft, and my taxes are gentler than the king's," the duke said earnestly.
Berandal was shocked by the offer. Roland's jaw dropped, as he heard his father being offered Rank in the kingdom! It had been years since the last elevation of someone to the peerage.
"May I think over your offer? This is an unexpected honor, but I really need to talk this over with my son," Berandal asked.
"Certainly. You should also know that becoming one of my Barons is not without risk. I come with a load of baggage and feuds. Although in all honesty, most have been settled or have not been active in years. My wife and I will withdraw and allow you and your son some time talk this over. Come, Gorman; these two have much to discuss!" the duke said sharply, and Berandal and Roland abruptly found themselves alone.
"Father! You are to become a Lord of the Land!" Roland exclaimed as soon as he and Berandal were alone.
"Aye. So it would seem. Does having a title really impress you so?" Berandal asked his son curiously.
"Well," Roland responded slowly, "While it is a pleasant thought to be a Lord, it is what goes with it that most impresses me. That is the ability to take care of the people under you. Look at our valley to the north.
"We do our best for them, and they know we do. But the first Lord who decides something adverse to our wishes, and our people suffer. Twice now we have had to dig into our own pockets to help pay other's taxes, because someone raised the taxes of our tenants.
"The best thing I can think of, is that the taxes would stop. The various Lords whose jurisdiction we now fall under, won't be able to just raise taxes on us, because they see we have money!" Roland finished forcefully.
Berandal nodded, then said, "You speak first of the people and their concerns, and then of yourself. I am proud of how you have turned out."
Berandal smiled with fondness on his son.
Roland watched as his father thought. He knew his father really had no use for the nobility. He smiled as he remembered how his father snorted once, at a supposed noble who was acting like a spoiled child, years ago. Berandal had told Roland he did not ever want to see him (Roland) act like that.
"Roland? I do not wish to be a baron, or a noble. I am who and what the gods have made me. I am content. However, if the duke's offer is good for me, it should be good for you.
"If I had accepted the offer, you in turn would have become Baron Talvon upon my death. I say that you should become Baron Talvon!" Berandal said.
Roland was stunned! He had been happy for his father when the offer had been made. True, he would have realized benefits from being the son of a noble, but still... to pass this up, and give it directly to his son, was unheard of!
"Father! Are you sure? I mean, you would make a very good baron!" Roland asked with concern.
"I am sure. I do not wish to become a noble. You are my son, and if you can become a Lord of the Land, I say good for you! You are caring of the land, and its people. I have tried to raise you to be courteous and polite to all. No, you are the perfect choice for being the first Lord in our family," Berandal said with a catch in his throat.
"I don't know what to say. If the duke offers it to me, I will accept. Think of the good we can do our farmers with this extra money," Roland said, starting to fantasize about things not yet granted.
Berandal laughed. "Come, let us find the duke, and find out how you are to become Baron Roland Talvon, of Talvon Barony!" he said, guiding his son by the elbow to the door.
Edited by TeNderLoin
Volentrin