Page 43 of A Monarch's Fall
“The King received the report last night,” he answered.
“And were you ordered not to share that report?” I questioned frustratedly, why had I not been updated the previous night?
“Not exactly, no,” he said. I stared at him, awaiting a better response. “But it wasn’t encouraged,” he continued, and turned to his soldiers, “Back to work,” he ordered, and the captains within the command centre began to clear away what was left of their lunch and return to their workstations. A soldier stationed at the entrance of the command centre shut the door. I knew we were now protected by the privacy enchantments.
General Creel waved me towards him.
“I have a soft spot for you, you know that, ever since you chopped up Vasilios; arms, legs and heads were flying that day. I love a good show,” he told me.
“General Creel, are you getting to the report?” I asked him.
He chuckled. “Never one for sentiment.” He pulled out his seat at his station. “For you, Ma’am,” he offered.
I hated that I was thankful to be off my feet and hoped the offer was made out of manners and not because Creel could sense my continuing lack of strength.
He leaned his elbows on the desk beside me, pulled the keyboard across to him, and began typing.
“I received a report yesterday evening from the intelligence unit we have in House Viridis,” he said as he clicked into a folder and brought up a report.
I began reading the report attentively.
“House Halvorsen?” I questioned as I read that a Synoptic witch had lost her companion when gathering aerial intelligence of the area.
“Exactly!” General Creel said.
I turned to him.
“What is the background to this? Why were they gathering intelligence in the area?” I questioned.
“Over the last few months, we’ve heard rumours of a closer relationship between Houses Viridis and Halvorsen. They are direct neighbours and, historically, while amicable, they have not formed any meaningful alliances. Trade between the Houses is small, mainly in the form of House Viridis importing wines and fruits that are only produced and grown in House Halvorsen. That was until three months ago when an exchange of heirs took place,” he explained.
“Wardship?” I questioned. “Why?”
“From our sources, more like fosterage,” Creel replied. “The youngest Heir of Viridis, one Maxen Viridis, twelve years old, a half-blood wolf shifter and great-grandnephew of Lord Dylan Viridis, the senior not his grandson, was sent to House Halvorsen at the same time that young Eira Halvorsen, fourteen years old and niece of Lord Oskar Halvorsen, the senior of course, his first born is no longer with us, was sent to House Viridis.” General Creel explained and nudged me with his elbow at the reference to Oskar’s death, as if it were some inside joke between us. Only someone like Creel could get away with such jovial behaviour. Perhaps because it was simply him, his character or nature, no pretence, he loved war, fighting, winning.
“Why?” I asked again.
“Why is there ever an exchange of fosters?” he questioned.
“Or hostages,” I replied.
“Exactly!” he smiled broadly. “Either they are wishing to form strong, even blood ties between their Houses or…” he trailed off.
“They wish to ensure civility,” I finished.
“You remember our warfare lessons well,” he praised.
“You were a good teacher,” I told him.
“Thank you,” he said, smiling broadly, “All in all, it’s odd behaviour, and not something that can be kept secret. So, the lack of fanfare at the exchange, no public or political announcement either, well, it needed to be investigated.”
I nodded my understanding, “But how did this lead to the Synoptic witch losing their companion?”
“At first, her owl was sent to find Maxen. She reported that the boy appeared in good health and was residing in a well-furnished private room within Lord Oskar Halvorsen’s Manor. On its return flight, the bird caught sight of something glimmering in the distance. The Synoptic witch was curious and so instructed it closer. It was night, this particular companion was of the nocturnal variety, best for espionage, of course. That’s when something unexpected occurred. As the bird grew closer to what we now know is a large estate owned by Lord Arvid Halvorsen, it was recognised as a companion and attacked by several large crows. However, not before it had witnessed the construction of several buildings. The Synoptic witch described it like the building of a small town,” General Creel explained.
I wasn’t sure which question to begin with.
“So now we have three mysteries: why would Viridis and Halvorsen exchange their heirs, why is Arvid Halvorsen’s estate being guarded by Synoptic witches, plural for there must be as many as there were birds under their control, and what is being built that they don’t want anyone to see?” I said, with GeneralCreel nodding like it was some exciting puzzle to be solved, “All intriguing, yet not what I came to you for.” I told him. “What does any of this have to do with The New Foundation or where my pet is?”