Ch 23: Charm

Aside from the thirteen founding families, of which only eleven remain, there are a number of smaller branch families where the blood isn’t quite thick enough. When you add in families given noble titles due to great accomplishments, or families given titles for aiding in the submission of their own people or others the number of nobles across Drakthiss starts to number in the thousands. That means we only need to slit a few thousand throats to be done with them.

• Speech by Dalmar the Dissident, documented to be used in a future prosecution

Solomon watched the town pass by as he rode in the carriage with Melissa. They were passing through the entirety of Moonfallow to get to Dame Pryor’s manor. There were a number of men and women gawking at the carriage as it passed by, unused to seeing them in their town. The people were much the same as those he’d seen before, but perhaps a bit more desperate, clothes patched more and cheeks a tad hollower. He’d have to make sure that the work he distributed wasn’t solely to those most conveniently located.

They reached the edge of town and travelled a bit further to reach a small manor. It was perhaps seven or eight bedrooms, with high windows to let in natural light and a finely crafted exterior that was in a relatively modern style. It was well accentuated by the garden which consisted primarily of rose bushes flanking the path leading up to it.

Melissa opened the door to the carriage to let him out and Solomon smelled the roses of the garden as he stepped outside. He thanked Melissa then Duncan as he walked up the path to the front door. There was a knocker shaped as the face of an angry bull with a ring through his nose. Solomon knocked firmly twice and waited.

He heard no sound as the door opened.

Standing in front of Solomon was the pale and androgynous servant he’d seen with Dame Pryor at the church. This time though, the man was glowing.

The servant bowed to him.

“The Dame is awaiting you in the sitting room. Please, allow me to escort you there.” His voice was as androgynous as he was, sitting somewhere above a man’s typical pitch and below a woman’s.

“Thank you,” replied Solomon as he stepped inside. The interior of the home seemed to be as meticulously maintained as the exterior. With fine furnishings, paintings, and even vases filled with fresh cut roses, he assumed they were from the garden.

He was led into a well appointed sitting room with bookshelves along one wall filled with salacious romances and a window that looked out into the garden. Dame Pryor was sitting in a well cushioned chair with perfect posture, a cup of tea in one hand and a recently closed book in her lap.

“Dame Pryor,” said Solomon with a bow.

“Lord Morrow. Welcome,” she responded formally.

“I apologize for not being able to make our earlier obligation.”

“I think, given the circumstances, rescheduling was appropriate. Though only barely.” Her tone didn’t change as she spoke leaving Solomon wondering whether or not she was joking.

“Please sit,” she said, gesturing to the seat across from him. “Threen, get him some tea and then retrieve us once lunch is ready.”

The pale servant nodded and poured some still-hot tea into a mug decorated with images of blue flowers.

“How do you take it?” he asked.

“Sweet,” replied Solomon, watching as the servant scooped four spoons of sugar into it before giving it a light stir and handing it to him.

Solomon nodded his thanks as he took the cup and took a sip. The tea was strong with a floral taste.

With Solomon settled, Threen bowed once more and left the room. Melissa also went to stand just outside the doorway, likely to sneak the small book she had out of her jacket pocket to read.

Solomon looked around casually. “You have a beautiful manor.”

“I’m sure it pales in comparison to your own, Lord Morrow.”

“The structure is large and impressive, but it lacks anything approaching style. Your manor is far superior.”

That caused the edges of her frown to twitch upward for just a moment.

“Thank you.”

“It truly stands out amongst the rest of Moonfallow.”

She nodded, taking a small sip of tea to clear her throat.

“There was a time when things here were far better. It was never the kind of town that would outdo Etling, but it was a pleasant place filled with good people.”

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“I’ve seen glimmers of that,” lied Solomon. “Little sparks of what it once was.” He had a sip of his own tea. “Can I ask what happened?” In truth he already knew the majority of the troubles had come with the ceasing of mining and logging, but he didn’t discount the opinion of a woman that had lived there her entire life.

Her frown returned. “I would blame the Bythars.”

“The Bythars?” They had been a noble family that had lived in these lands before anyone else. Their ancestors were chiefs that had willingly submitted to the empire. As far as he’d known they’d lost their titles some time ago.

“Yes. They’re like rats eating away at this place. Every time they’re given authority this town moves further into being a backwater fiefdom. When I was young my father blamed them for the accident that shut down the mine, and yet they wound up in charge again. I imagine you’re no fan of them either, given what happened to you.”

“What happened to me…?” Solomon thought aloud, his mind quickly connecting what she’d stated with what he knew. A vague memory of Marcus claiming to be a Bythar came to him as well, one that had been lost with all the mana and blood of that day.

“The mayor and the first watchmen? They were Bythars?”

She nodded. “Savages given authority above their station. I was happy to hear there was one fewer.” She sipped her tea, her expression softening a bit. “Though I was sorry to hear of what happened at your estate of course.”

“Of course,” he responded with a smile, nodding. Them being former nobility gave him more context for how they were so firmly entrenched.

“When I was a girl there were even rumors that they killed their wives. Some people said that’s what really cost them their titles.”

Solomon smiled. “That’s fascinating.” He took another sip of his tea. “Can I ask you another question?”

She nodded, she seemed to be warming up to him a bit. Gossip had that kind of power among noble women. Men as well, though they’d rarely admit it.

“I heard that there was once another noble family here. The Heartrees? I can’t say I’ve encountered any of them though.”