Page 20
“WE WENT BACK eight generations,” Braxton said, lounging back in his chair on the other side of his desk.
His public office was a mess of papers and books absolutely everywhere, stacked on every flat surface and all over the floor, turning the path to the visitor’s chair where Karl sat in into a dangerous maze.
“You couldn’t find anyone?” Karl asked, his heart sinking.
“It’s not that we couldn’t find anyone willing,” Braxton replied with a sneer and disappointed shake of his head.
“Plenty of people were all too happy with the idea of getting their hands on the wealth from the Bay of Whist. All those tax dollars coming in at that port would let anyone live a comfortable life of excess. The previous Baron Whistfield certainly did when he was turning traitor to the crown.”
“There has to be one person you can choose as heir who wouldn’t be too bad, right?”
Braxton sighed, shaking his head again. “I’m sure somewhere in those eight generations there was one.
The problem isn’t needing a blood heir like royal law dictates.
The Whistfield inheritance has its own mandate on top of the royal one.
It states the heir must be someone who wields red magic, to the point that a non-blood heir with the magic would inherit over a blood heir without. ”
Braxton slumped in his seat and ran a hand through his hair, giving Karl a look Karl really wished he couldn’t interpret.
“No one in those eight generations had the magic, did they?” Karl asked, even though Braxton’s expression had already told him it was a redundant question. Karl didn’t bother waiting for Braxton to answer, instead stating the answer himself. “No one, that is, except me.”
Braxton nodded. “We couldn’t find anyone else of the bloodline with red magic, neither in those eight generations nor by searching for other bastard children like you.
Royal law dictates if a blood heir can be located, we are mandated to declare them the heir.
You are the heir to the Barony of Whistfield, and unlike four years ago, this time you can’t turn it down. ”
“Damn,” Karl breathed out, joining Braxton in slumping down in his seat. “I don’t want anything to do with a noble title.”
Whistfield might only be a barony, but because of Toval’s largest port being located in the Bay of Whist, it had the money and resources to rival a duke at times.
Karl had turned down the crown’s offer four years ago, when the baron at the time—Karl’s father—had committed treason and been executed.
The baron’s only legitimate child and his younger brother had both died in the fighting, leaving only Karl as the bastard child with the ability to use red magic.
“Explains why I’ve been feeling murderous gazes tracking me whenever I’m walking in any of the public hallways. Bet all those younger sons or weaker nobles want nothing more than to take their fancy, bejeweled daggers and plunge what’s probably dull metal into my back.”
Braxton snorted out a laugh. “Graphic, but probably accurate. Do us all a favor and stay with Casmir when you’re wandering around the castle. He might be settling pretty well into the role of innocent prince, but he’s still deadly. If any of those dull blades head your way, he’ll have your back.”
“You realize I’m armed right now too?” Karl grumped out, trying to conceal the way his heart leapt at the idea of getting to spend time with Casmir.
“Why couldn’t I have gone with Char and Fen on the Royal Forces annual training?
You know, wherever they went…” Which was somewhere out in the wild, unsettled areas of Toval where they could train intensely for three to four weeks uninterrupted.
The barracks in the military complex were empty.
Even Emily had gone with them, leaving Karl and Shan behind.
Sous chefs were always in high demand, so Shan had settled without trouble into the castle’s kitchens with Terrance, Char’s cousin.
Bakers, on the other hand… Not so much. Karl sighed.
Terrance had offered to find Karl space, but Karl knew the only way Terrance could do that was to kick someone else out.
Karl wasn’t about to cost someone their job just so he could fill some empty hours in his day, or so he could escape bloodthirsty courtiers.
“They went somewhere, but you know you would just be in the way there. They can’t help you train with your knives while they’re busy with their own maneuvers, and they don’t need a baker.
” Braxton shrugged. “You’re needed here anyway, as the Baron Whistfield.
” He reached into one of the stacks of papers and pulled out a section as thick as his fist. “Here’s an overview of your lands and responsibilities, some paperwork you have to fill out to get everything transferred into your name, including bank forms and some stuff for the lawyers, and a few other things like arranging for the jeweler to help you design your signet ring.
” He passed the papers over to Karl. “I’ll need everything you have to review and sign back by tomorrow, so I can get it all to Ayer and get the ball moving on your debut in court as the new baron. ”
“A debut? Why do we need that? Just slap the title on me. In a few weeks the Royal Forces will be back, and I’ll return to their kitchen to bake every day. The second a new scandal hits, I’ll be yesterday’s news and completely forgotten. All of this will blow over soon enough.”
Karl hoped the fleeting look of pity that crossed and then disappeared from Braxton’s face didn’t mean what the heavy feeling in his stomach coupled by the weight of the papers in his hands implied.
“Focus on getting through all that paperwork first,” Braxton replied. “Then we can figure out your baking.”
Karl bit his lip but nodded. He stood to leave but paused with his hand on his chair back to turn toward Braxton.
“Have you heard anything from Yaroi?” he asked.
In the weeks since Karl had been back in Etoval, he had spent the early mornings baking the day’s breads and pies for the Royal Forces, before heading to the castle to help nurse Casmir back to health.
Once Casmir had left the healer’s wing two weeks ago, Karl had been able to focus a lot of his time on preparing the foodstuffs for the Royal Forces’ expedition.
Now that the Royal Forces were gone and Karl was staying in Fen’s set of rooms in the royal wing, he had far too much time for his thoughts to drift and to dwell on that terrible journey out of Yari.
Braxton frowned, pursing his lips in thought before he replied, “No, and we should have. They definitely know we have two members of their royal household here in Etoval, but we haven’t received any sort of diplomatic communications.
Not even their ambassador stationed here has spoken to us about it. ”
“And it’s Yaroi, so if they’re not willing to be open about it—”
“It means they’re doing something underhanded. Yes,” Braxton finished. “I’ve kept alert, but I’ve yet to uncover anything.”
That was likely all Braxton could say aloud since they were in his public office.
His private one was much more secure and also hidden.
Karl had only been there twice. Thankfully, Karl could read between the lines.
Braxton had tasked his spies, had investigated, and then done whatever else a spymaster could do to obtain information, and had come up with nothing.
“I’ll keep a lookout too, and will let you know if I spot anything,” Karl said.
“I appreciate it,” Braxton replied, smiling at him. “Now go deal with that paperwork.”
Karl grimaced, glaring down at the mass of papers he needed two hands to hold properly.
Somehow, from the moment he had stepped off the boat in Yari, all his plans for where he wanted to go in life were slowly getting derailed one by one.
He walked into the hallway, closed the door behind him, and headed off in the general direction of the royal wing.
The castle was busy as usual, servants and courtiers everywhere, and since these days everyone noticed him, Karl had to deal with their angry and envious stares as he made his way.
As Karl walked past one of the many entrances to the expansive gardens, Casmir’s voice made him pause.
He turned to look out into the garden flush with buds just starting to open and show their vibrant blooms as spring finally began to take hold.
Casmir was too far away to hear what he was actually saying, and outwardly he had a genial expression on his face, but something about the tilt to his lips and the sharpness in his eyes said he was annoyed and barely holding on to his temper.
“Cas!” Karl called out, waving over his head with one hand while hoping he was embarking on a rescue rather than getting in Casmir’s way. “Are you heading back now? I’ll walk with you.”
Casmir’s eyes softened as he waved back. He nodded politely to the group before walking over.
“Busy morning?” he asked Karl, eying Karl’s morass of papers.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Karl grumbled, pouting. Still, he sorted through his stack until he found the most damning piece of paper in the lot, then passed it over for Casmir to read. “It looks like your morning isn’t going much better though.”
“I’m just dealing with morons who think the fancy private education their parents paid for equates to real life experience,” Casmir responded, frowning as he read. One eyebrow lifted when he got to the line that made Karl grit his teeth.
The title, lands, and honors of the Barony of Whistfield are hereby and henceforth bestowed upon the rightful blooded heir, Lord Karlow Musen Whist, the Baron Whistfield. Karl’s stomach clenched just reading the words over Casmir’s shoulder.
“Your inheriting this is definitely good for Toval, you know. When you called out to me just now, I was attending a tea with a number of nobles’ sons and daughters, some of them heirs.
I just had an absolutely riveting discussion about how to properly punish their servants because they served strawberry pie rather than the apple the noble brat demanded.
” Sarcasm clung to every word Casmir said, like slime on a frog.
“It’s spring right now?” Karl asked, glancing out a nearby window that showed the same early buds on the trees outside. “Strawberries are in season. A bag of dried apple slices likely costs good gold this time of year. The cost of fresh apples to make a proper pie would be astronomical.”
“Hmm, yes,” Casmir replied, handing the paper back to Karl. “But they wanted apple; therefore, their servants needed to suffer. Horrendous.”
“If I were their parents, I would have rewarded those servants for not wasting good gold on such a frivolous request.”
Casmir laughed, his eyes bright with mirth as he looked at Karl.
“You assume the apple didn’t fall from the same tree.
Besides, any of the useful nobles who actually contribute to this kingdom are far too busy this time of day with actual work.
You’ll be another noble doing work rather than playing, which will definitely help Toval.
Only the useless fops fritter away their daytime hours on impractical tea parties. ”
The way Casmir’s eyes glinted and the upward tilt to one side of his mouth was all Karl needed to read between the lines.
Braxton had asked Casmir to befriend some of the fops, to be taken into their confidence and hopefully derail any foolishness they might start before it could escalate.
Or, perhaps Casmir had taken on the task himself, knowing it would help Braxton.
He might be a prince now, but he could still contribute as a spy too.
Casmir looked good. His hair was pulled back into a neat tail, showing off the emerald studs in his ears—newly pierced, Karl believed—which matched the deep green of his jacket and pants.
Every inch of him looked like a prince. Part of this was Casmir’s acting ability, honed by his years as a spy, but the role of prince seemed to fit him, as if he had shed an outer shell to reveal his true self underneath.
Compared to Casmir, Karl definitely didn’t look the part of a baron.
He was wearing the usual brown pants allotted to any of the Royal Forces members for when they were off duty.
As a concession to being in the palace, Karl had worn a blue shirt instead of the standard white, but the cut was the same simple and utilitarian one.
He didn’t wear any jewelry, nor did he have the presence to stand tall and look the part.
No, Karl looked exactly like what he was: a street waif turned kitchen servant carrying a fat stack of papers like he was hoping the words wouldn’t explode and try to eat him.
They finally reached the guards outside the royal wing and spent a few minutes saying hello, before heading for their rooms.
“What are you doing the rest of today?” Casmir asked as Karl stopped outside the door leading into Fen’s private set of rooms.
“Probably going through this paperwork and wishing I was anyone else’s bastard child. What about you?”
Casmir laughed. “Don’t we all wish that. You mind if I keep you company while you bitch over whatever additional nonsense is in those papers? I’ll call for tea.”
“You’re always welcome,” Karl replied easily, opening the door and waving for Casmir to precede him, hoping his joy at knowing Casmir wanted to spend more time with Karl wasn’t too obvious.
“Lovely. You can listen to me bitch about the other moronic things I had to listen to all morning, when you need a distraction,” Casmir added as he led the way inside and headed for the bellpull to call a servant for tea.
Karl settled on one of the couches and dumped his papers onto the coffee table there. Casmir finished speaking with the servant who had appeared at the door and sat across from Karl.
“Right then,” Karl began. He picked the first piece of paper off the stack and, with a grimace, got to work.