Noble Arcana

Primogeniture is becoming more and more untenable as the empire continues to grow. The best and brightest of the nobility are being sent to die taking tremendous risks while their more foolish brother drinks away his inheritance. A patriarch should be able to choose which of his sons is most worthy of taking over his holdings.

Garland Reed, Open Palm party Leader

Solomon stepped in and the servant that had escorted him stepped in directly behind him. He hadn’t paid him much attention before, but he realized that the servant was easily a head taller than him and quite a bit wider.

He took a few steps forward until he was able to better see the strung up man. Before he’d been beaten he’d been wearing a fine suit covered in bold silver buttons. He was from the southeastern part of the empire, far north of his origins, and had a light tan. His face was a ruin, but Solomon estimated him to be in his early thirties.

“You can leave us Fein,” said Viscount Byar as he stood up from his chair and walked over to a water basin.

The servant bowed and left them.

Viscount Byar took a bottle of clear alcohol and poured two fingers into a cup before walking toward Solomon and handing it to him.

Solomon took the glass, observing the calluses and cuts on the man’s fist. James had a wiry musculature to him that made his strength hard to gauge when hidden by a fine suit, but with his sleeves rolled up it was clear the man was strong.

James walked back to the basin and poured the alcohol over his hands, washing away blood. He didn’t even wince as it hit the nicks on his hand. He then placed the bottle down and dunked his hands in the basin. Once they were clean he dried them, swept his hair back until it was neat and rolled his sleeves back down. He then poured himself a drink and walked over to Solomon, clinking his drink against his.

“Cheers to a fine ball,” he said with a smile.

Solomon nodded. “It was well hosted, and I appreciated the quality of the guests.”

The Viscount’s golden eyes twinkled, a bit of the feral quality that they had to them seeming to fade.

“Gods dammit. I really can’t help but to like you.”

Solomon took a sip of his drink, feeling it burn its way down his throat.

“Oh?”

“You keep not acting in the way I expect. I assume you don’t even remember my sister, and then you recall what she smelled like one of the two times you met. I take you gambling and not only do you win, you manage to avoid a deadly situation I hadn’t even predicted. I show you a dead man on a hook in an attempt to intimidate you and you hardly bat an eye. I mean, I know that you already know about the hidden guns, so perhaps you expected something like this, but even if you did I could not have predicted your coldness. You’re the Morrow iceman.”

“And why do you see a need to intimidate me?” asked Solomon, swirling his drink casually.

“Becuase your man saw my guns, and your Valet has been snooping around unnecessarily. I need you pliable so that I don’t have to kill you.”

“You’d risk killing a Morrow?” Solomon asked with a tone of curiosity more than anything. James was smart enough to know the penalty for killing someone like him. While he may be able to get away with it, it would still be high risk. That meant that the little bits of information Solomon had were enough to get James into even worse trouble than his murder would. “Why invite me here if it could lead to such a risk?”

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The Viscount shrugged. “I really did just wish to connect with you. Maybe hear an anecdote about my sister. I miss her dearly.”

Solomon nodded. James was about his age, which meant his sister had been near his age when she’d died. It would be like if Bernice had died, a thought that put just a twinge of anxiety into his gut.

“Unfortunately now we have to get into some unpleasantness. I’m going to have to insist that you find some places to store some goods for me within Moonfallow. Old warehouses, your estate, wherever you’d like. The only way I can be sure of your compliance is to make you my accomplice.” He sipped his own drink. “Don’t worry though, I have no intention of being caught and will make it worth your while as well. Perhaps we can even go gambling again?”

Solomon thought through the offer carefully, swirling around the clear liquid in his glass.

“I’m afraid I must refuse. While I myself may be okay with taking on personal risk, what you propose has a high likelihood of bringing harm to my servants and the people of Moonfallow. They are my responsibility, and I cannot allow them to come to harm.”

Viscount Byar raised his eyebrows. “Wow. A very old point of view on your responsibility. I like you even more than I thought.”

“I’m not sure that you fully understand the situation that you’re in now though.” He gestured to the dead man hung upon a hook behind him. “I don’t wish you harm, but I will kill you and your servants if you do not agree to my terms.”

“I fully understand your terms, I simply feel that you don’t fully understand the situation.” Solomon frowned as he made a decision on how to proceed. It was highly risky, but it certainly had the highest potential benefits.

“Oh? Please enlighten me. I saw you run out of breath dancing this evening, I don’t think you were lying to my guests when you gave your servants all the credit for their own salvation.”

Solomon aimed his hand at the man hanging from the hook at focused his mana, letting it built as much as possible before releasing a gust at it.

The body flew backward, the chain sliding it backward. The basin of bloody water, the table it was on, and the chair James sat in all flew backward as well.

James’s eyes narrowed as his chair fell backward and he managed to roll with it, winding back on his feet, his hand on the hilt of a knife at his side.

Solomon was already aiming his other hand in his direction, calmly pouring mana into it.

“So you see,” said Solomon, lowering his hand and releasing his focused mana. “There’s no need to try and intimidate me. We’re equals, you and I.” Solomon straightened his suit coat. “I know a piece of information that could end you, and now you know the same of me.”

James’s face contorted into a frown, and then he scoffed before starting to laugh. He took his hand off the hilt of his knife and started laughing even harder.

“The two men I saw outside the pub. Those were you?”

“They had been waiting by the window I’d climbed out of.”

“I had thought I sensed someone else out there. I suppose I should’ve been more thorough.”

“You seemed as if you were being quite thorough already.”

“Were the lights you as well?”

“Yes.”

“And the attack on your manor, I suppose it really was you that slew all of those rogue watchmen?”

“The servants really did assist with a good number of them, but yes. I did contribute more than I let on.”

James shook his head. “A mage… how have you hidden from the Union? Do the Morrows know? Are you a family of hidden mages?”

“No to the last question, as to the others you’ll have to allow me some secrets, and I’ll do the same for you.”

James nodded. “Fair enough.” He walked to the corner of the room where the bottle of clear alcohol had rolled without breaking. He took a swig from it and walked over to Solomon, topping off his glass.

“It’s amazing what younger sons like us need to go through to be successful, isn’t it?” he asked as he filled the glass.

“It really is,” responded Solomon.

“So. Since it appears we’re equals, shall we start this over from scratch?”

“Perhaps not from scratch. I thought we were doing quite well as friends until you decided to show me Bolivar’s corpse.”

He smiled. “Good guess.”

“Thank you,” said Solomon. “First of all, I think it goes unsaid that we shouldn’t sell one another out.”

“Of course.”

“Secondly, we should look into ways we can be mutually beneficial to one another. You’ve already been a tremendous help with the ball and those I met. There must be some way I could repay you?”

“Aside from allowing me to store illicit goods in Moonfallow you mean?”

“Yes, aside from that.”

He laughed. “Before there wasn’t much, but now that I know you’re a mage that changes things. There are a few… issues of a magical nature that I’ve had to deal with.”

“Simply send me the details by personal messenger. I work best on arcane problems at home.”

“Fair enough. Aside from my connections, is there any other way I might assist you?”

“Well… you have a number of guns with you. Any chance I could have one?”

He raised his eyebrows. “What could a mage want with a gun?”

“Nothing too dramatic.”