The Tattered Banner (Society of the Sword Volume 1) (21 page)

The following morning Soren unpacked and dressed in the one set of clothes he had brought on the ride ahead. They were ones that he had not seen before, having been bought by Amero’s servants in preparation for the trip north. There was an entire trunk of other clothes and accessories following on with the carriages that he had also not seen. It was all fine and fancy so as not to let down the great city-state of Ostia.

They weren’t all that bad though, a navy colour with white trimmings, it seemed to go well enough with the blue Academy doublet he wore over it. On top went the wide brimmed hat. The whole ensemble made him look like one of the dandies he saw walking around Highgarden and made him feel like a peacock, but he did have to admit that he now looked the part, and didn’t imagine he would attract many suspicious glances in the better parts of Brixen. At least the hat didn’t have a plume, as seemed to be becoming more fashionable, but something he could not abide.

After they had enjoyed a delicious breakfast in Amero’s apartment, a chamberlain came to collect them. He led them to the lowest floor of the Palace and down a series of plushly carpeted halls, lined with busts and paintings. This hall brought them around the inside of the building to a larger hallway that the main entrance he had seen the night before led in to. At the end of this hallway open double doors with the royal arms of Ruripathia above them led into what Soren assumed was the main hall of the Palace. There were people hanging around in that hallway, many looking nervous, pacing up and down or wringing their hands, clearly waiting for an audience with the Prince. There were also a number of aristocratic looking types in martial clothing with heavy looking steel coloured fur cloaks over their shoulders. Soren’s party were brought straight through and he caught several annoyed glances being cast in their direction.

The next set of doors led to a small antechamber, which accommodated two guards in impressive dress uniforms and shining silver breastplates. The doors out of this room led finally to the main hall of the Palace. The room was in keeping with the rest of the building. The floors, the great ornate columns that stretched up to the high ceiling and the statues that filled alcoves along the room’s sides were of white marble with a grey swirl running through it. Furnishings of dark wood were decorated with silver, and silver was inlaid in all the statues and decoration on the marble. Swaths of fur lined with red cloth decorated the room, the red warming the otherwise cold appearance, as did two massive fireplaces on either side of the hall, which crackled and spit as the massive logs within them were devoured by the flames.

‘Banneret of the Blue, Count Elector of Ostia, Amero, Lord of the County of Moreno and his party,’ announced the Chamberlain.

A few of the other people in the room turned to look at the visitors from the south, the guards remained impassive as ever, and the Prince, sitting in a chair on a raised platform at the other end of the hall whispered with the steward, Varo for a moment before Varo beckoned them to come forward.

‘Your Serene Highness, it is an honour to present myself at your court. I bring the warm greetings and regards of the Duke of Ostia,’ said Amero, bowing formally.

Soren copied Amero’s bow and stepped back, watching the formalities unfold. Emeric shifted uneasily beside him, uncomfortable in these surroundings. Soren, despite himself, found that he was quite enjoying the new experience.

‘I receive your mission from Ostia gracefully and in the spirit of friendship. I hope our discussions may prove fruitful,’ said the Prince.

‘The great state of Ostia also sends gifts, Highness, but sadly they and our baggage have not yet arrived,’ replied Amero.

‘Yes, my chancellor tells me that you took the road through Rurip to make better time. A courageous choice,’ the Prince said evenly.

The exchange was so formal it felt as though it was scripted, and it continued for several minutes. There was a girl sitting in front and to the right of the Prince. From the neat tiara she wore he assumed she was Princess Alys, the widower Prince’s only child, his only legitimate child at any rate. She was not especially pretty, handsome might be a more appropriate word, but attractive nonetheless and about the same age as Soren.

What was most striking about her was the combination of honey coloured hair, fair skin and impossibly blue eyes. Women in Ostenheim tended to be dark of hair and complexion and although he had seen some whores who dyed theirs, he had never seen a girl with hair quite like hers. She had a disdainful, haughty look on her face, but when she caught Soren’s gaze, her expression became unreadable. It was stern, but betrayed no information about what she was thinking, despite the fact that she was clearly appraising him. It reminded him that he was representing his Duchy now and not just himself. He tried to adopt an equally unreadable expression. The last thing that he wanted to do was to reveal the fact that he was a diplomatic novice and of how impressed with the whole experience that he was. Disdainful boredom seemed to be the appropriate demeanour.

The remainder of the morning was spent discussing a variety of unimportant things, unimportant at least to Soren. Trade quotas and tariffs were the main topic, with concessions for merchants and similar economic topics featuring in the discussion. There was nothing to do with a peace treaty, but perhaps Amero was setting the stage and tone for those negotiations. In the afternoon the session was closed. Emeric went back to his small room to read, leaving Soren at his own devices for the remainder of the day.

He sat by the fountain in the inner courtyard for a little while, wondering whether or not to venture into the city to explore. He was struck by how peaceful the little courtyard was, the babbling of the water in the fountain, and the way the surrounding Palace shut out all the noises of the world around it. The bench he sat on was in a little alcove of miniature trees with its back to the fountain. He was lost in his thoughts when he heard a voice.

‘You are in my seat!’

He looked around to see the Princess standing in front of him.

‘Your Highness, I apologise, I had no idea!’ he stuttered, as he stood up.

‘Don’t panic, I’m only joking!’ she said. ‘You haven’t brought the negotiations to a calamitous end.’ She smiled in a tired, forced way and sat. ‘Now sit, I never get to talk to people my own age.’

Soren sat and she continued.

‘Your rooms? Are they to your satisfaction?’ she asked.

‘Yes, your Highness, they are quite simply magnificent. My room at the Academy is smaller than the dressing room!’ he said.

She smiled and looked down at her feet.

‘The steward said that you are a tyro. Have you visited our Academy yet, or the Bannerets’ Hall?’

‘No, your Highness, we only arrived in the city last night,’ Soren replied carefully.

‘Oh, they didn’t tell me when you arrived. It’s quite an important mission, you are lucky to have been taken along at such a young age!’

‘Yes, the Count of Moreno is my patron at the Academy. He wanted to bring me along for the experience.’

‘Ah, a patron. It is not a common practice at our Academy, but it happens occasionally. Some of the best swordsmen in the city were of common birth, though. Are you any good?’ she asked, then added quickly, ‘oh but of course you are going to say you are!’

‘I am thought to be competent, your Highness,’ Soren replied as diplomatically as possible.

‘That’s nice,’ she said, her lips curled slightly hinting at sarcasm. ‘Competent.’ Her voice drifted with facetious contemplation for a moment as she made a poor attempt at suppressing a smile. ‘It gets very warm in Ostenheim I understand. Does it ever snow there?’

‘No, your Highness, it doesn’t. It gets cold and wet in the winter, but I’ve never even seen snow!’ said Soren.

‘There is no need to say “your highness” every time you speak. I’m not likely to forget the fact any time soon! Never seen snow though? You should come to the Summer Palace in the mountains. At this time of the year there will still be lots of it! It only thawed here a couple of weeks ago. It’s a shame you missed it.’

‘Yes, I’d like to have seen some,’ said Soren.

‘So what do young people in Ostenheim do for fun?’ she asked.

‘Well, some of the students go to taverns, but mainly we just practice. Being at the Academy is too great an opportunity to squander,’ he said. He realised that he had betrayed his humble origins, if she had not already worked it out for herself. ‘I can’t really speak for anyone not in the Academy,’ he added, ‘but I imagine it’s balls and parties for the wealthy, and work for those not so.’

‘Much like here then really!’ she said, with a little disappointment. ‘Occasionally I go sailing on the lake, but I don’t get to do that often. I practice with a sword from time to time also. It’s fun, but I’ll never get to be particularly good. It isn’t really seemly for a princess to spend all of her time at sword practice. Father says that when I am in charge I’ll need to have some idea how to defend myself just in case!’

‘It certainly couldn’t hurt,’ Soren said.

‘Hmmm.’ She laughed as she stood up. ‘You’ll have to sit next to me at the banquet tonight. I can’t stand having to listen to some decrepit old lord who wants to marry me. You can tell me all about your journey and about Ostia.’

Soren only now noticed the two ladies who were standing by the door beckoning for Alys to go with them.

C h a p t e r   2 1

DIPLOMACY IS DEAD

S
oren was not surprised to find a card bearing his name at the place beside Alys at the top table that night. Amero sat with the Prince and his council of state while other nobles made up the numbers at that table, many of them middle aged, single and hoping to find the favour of their future ruler. Unlike Ostia, Ruripathia had become a hereditary principality after the fall of the Empire due to the popularity of the first Prince, who, then still only a baron, led the state back to power from the wreck left behind after the Mage Wars. The current Prince was the last in an unbroken line of fathers and sons that led back to the first. Alys’s mother had died in childbirth, and the Prince had never remarried. This meant that for the first time in its history, Ruripathia would be ruled by a princess, and by the man lucky enough to wed her.

Soren was entirely unprepared for what exactly a royal banquet entailed. Ten courses were to be served in total, all washed down with expensive wines that were imported from all around the Middle Sea. On Alys’s other side sat one of the younger residents at that part of the table. He was raven haired, but of the same light complexion that was prevalent among Ruripathians. He wore a black fitted coat, similar to the ones worn by the officers on board the ship that had brought them north.

‘Tyro Soren, this is Captain Varrisher,’ said Alys.

Varrisher looked at him appraisingly and nodded, not offering a hand. ‘A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Tyro,’ he said, his voice sharp and confident.

‘Likewise,’ replied Soren.

‘Captain Varrisher has the accolade of having captained the first and last ships to run the ice for the last two years in a row. It marks him out as our premier captain! Great things will follow for him no doubt,’ Alys said to Soren quietly.

‘Run the ice?’ Soren asked.

‘Mmm yes,’ she said, taking a sip of wine. ‘The sea is frozen by the Niepar as far south as the border during the winter. Every year when the wind turns and the thaw begins, it is a race to see which captain will brave the melting ice flows first. The same happens at the end of the Nistra season, as the sea starts to freeze again, merchants take chances by sending out their ships as late as possible to bring out the last cargo of the year. They are the two shipments that will fetch the highest price, but many ships are lost each year trying. It’s still worth the risk for them to try though.

‘Captain Varrisher is the most successful at it, ever, as far as I know. They use smaller faster ships for the run than the normal Oceanmen, with crews of only twenty or thirty, but these cargos often fetch as much in foreign markets as a full sized shipment. Also, it has become something of a sport for the captains. Some of them become as famous as our best swordsmen. Captain Varrisher is one such captain.’

Soren nodded, not sure what he could say. Varrisher was clearly very good at what he did and from the disdainful way he carried himself it was clear that he knew it.

‘I spent a year at the Academy in Brixen, you know,’ said Varrisher, out of the blue half way through the dinner. Up until that point the conversations were split on either side of the Princess, she giving her attention to each of them as best she could. This time Varrisher spoke directly to Soren. ‘I was able to take a year there during my studies at the Naval College. What with all the pirates around these days I thought it a prudent move. The instructors said I had a talent for it and that it was a shame that I had been sent to the Naval College. Still, I love the sea, so I am happy with the way things turned out. I still like to spar though. Perhaps we could have a few bouts before you leave; there is an excellent fencing hall here in the Palace.’