Brutus

Time passed in the halls of Corvidrop Castle, and eventually enough food was prepared for the newly arrived guests. Fulcher had arrived last of those that came with the stagecoach, finding Benedict sitting at the end of a long table. He wore a white robe, with a puffy and ornamental set of feathers surrounding his shoulders. To Fulcher, it made him look like an albino peacock. The rest of those gathered, guest and servant alike, were dressed in thin black garb. The outfits were chic and refined, and reminded Fulcher of what he may see on some sort of contemporary fashion show.

As they ate they spoke of what had occurred in the last couple of days. Fulcher explained the situation with his escape, and his plans to take the throne from Dilyniant. In return he listened as Corvidrop explained the history of his family. He learned that Corvidrop had always been a crossroads between kingdoms, but that the Sire’s aggression towards other countries meant the borders remained closed. He detailed how the Capitol kept a chokehold on the Corvidrop military, sent to fight in wars across the North and East. Better to keep them occupied in conflict, than sitting at home so that they may plot and scheme. As they began to clean through their main courses and moved on to the fruits and pastries of dessert, Fulcher asked the question he had been waiting to find the answer to.

“So, Benedict. In order to earn your support for my plan, what would you ask for in return? It is not just enough to have Corvidrop remain out of the conflict. I’d need your full support as an ally in this fight,” Fulcher explained.

He watched as Benedict interlocked his fingers, resting his chin on his hands as he observed the Prince.

“You’d grant me whatever I wish? That is a heavy price, My Prince,” the lord smiled.

“I am not in much of a position to argue, Benedict. If it secures your support, I’d take whatever deal you lay on the table,” Fulcher responded. A moment of silence before Corvidrop spoke again.

“Independence?” he hissed out, his grin creeping up his face once more. Schon glanced between the two, cautious. Fulcher nodded.

“I’d need more than your support, then. A mutual defense treaty, at a minimum. Trade deals at a maximum. I don’t want war,” Fulcher stated plainly. Benedict sighed and rolled his eyes dramatically, leaning back in his chair as he folded his arms over his chest.

“So much paperwork, I simply want the city to flourish again under new trade. And I want our levies returned, never again to be summoned for some far-off conflict. Grant me these at least and I will be satisfied with a seat on your council, and control of the southern border,” the lord said.

Minimal work, maximum payout… Fulcher thought. I can keep him happy with enough freedom to act as he wishes.

“Then I shall make you Steward of the South. And name you the Chief of Mercantile Affairs,” Fulcher offered.

“Steward,” Benedict said, testing the word slowly. “I like that, Steward Corvidrop… And I’d control our trade?”

“If you accept, I’d allow you to control trade for the entire Kingdom,” Fulcher said with a smile. The lord did little to hide his excitement, clapping playfully.

“Oh how delightful! Yes, Yes! This fits nicely… THEN!” Corvidrop stood suddenly, bowing dramatically at the end of the table. “Allow me to be the first to call you… KING Fulcher.” Vardia stood as well, clapping loudly. Servants and guards around the edge of the room also joined in, awkwardly parroting the Custodi’s actions until he had sat down again.

“You know, Fulcher, there are many nobles who have sworn themselves to the inevitable demise of your father,” Corvidrop said as he sat down again. “It would be easy enough to rally them, and call up their local militias. But, many would simply see you as an upstart stealing the throne from the rightful King. You need legitimacy.” The wide smile of the lord returned as Fulcher blinked.

“Legitimacy? I didn’t think of that. What, in the eyes of the Gods?” he asked.

“No, no, in the eyes of History. Do you know of Librarum?” Benedict asked.

“I do not…” Fulcher admitted.

“The Librarum is an ancient library, said to be on an isle in the middle of the seas. It is covered in a thick mist to prevent ships from finding it. No human has been there in generations,” Benedict explained. “In fact, it was your great great grandfather who drew the Librarum’s ire. It is said a secret escaped the Capitol, hidden in the writings of the ancient tomes donated to the Librarum to hold humanity’s history for all to witness…”

“What did my ancestor do, then?” Fulcher asked.

“It is said he sent a missive to the Librarum, asking for the tome containing this secret to be recalled from history itself, to be burnt and forgotten. But the keepers of the island refused. In his fury, your great great grandfather slew the Scribes who sent the books away, and ordered the servants of the Librarum be branded traitors to humanity. Ever since that blood was spilled, the mists claimed the island, and nobody has ever seen it,” Corvidrop said.

“And so, this secret held in the Librarum… you think it would be useful in toppling my father?” Fulcher asked.

“What better way to take the throne than to convince the world it was never his to begin with? Besides, if you were to make peace with the Scribes of Librarum, you’d be hailed a hero of your time and a mender of historic rifts,” Corvidrop said. Fulcher thought for a long moment, leaning back in his chair.

Such a place of knowledge, maybe I can find out more about magic there. That, and well… maybe I can discover how I wound up in this place, he thought.

“Very well, I will travel south to Librarum,” Fulcher said, his eyes shifting to Corvidrop. “And while I am away, Stella will remain here with you.”