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Given the talk that he’d had with the King, Anders expected to find people in his room, packing his things for him, even as he went back there to reopen his space before the meal. Instead, the door was closed and while the inside of the room was clean, no one had run off with his chests of sea found coins or anything. The top one was askew, and when he moved it, clearly much lighter than it had been, but the rest of them were still well filled.
True, there could be rocks in them, or pot metal, meant to trick him, but if so, whoever did the work on them managed to seal the wood at the lid in the same fashion he’d done it. The top case didn’t have that, exactly. It was resealed, but the work on it was a bit warped in places, the wood squeezed together and then joined. His work was a bit nicer looking than that.
He changed his clothing, cleansed his body, and rubbed at his face. That, interestingly, had just a bit of hair on it. Not a lot, but at some point, while he’d been away, things had started to grow there. Anders shrugged, lacking a razor to take it off with. Farad was fine with having a beard. He’d never shaved in his entire life, so wasn’t up on how that would have been done, anyway. His facial hair had been cut, many times, but going bare faced wasn’t a thing that adult men had done at the hermitage. Some who had come to hear the stories had done that though, so it had been a known thing, even back then.
Instead of cleaning the no doubt wispy strands from his chin and the fuzz from his upper lip, he simply focused on his clothing for a few moments. As much as he hated to do it, he made those into robes, to mark him as a user of magic. That wasn’t the trend there in Istlan, but it could leave him seeming different enough that an announcement of his being sent away from the court might at least seem correct. If he wasn’t simply escorted out of the building, of course.
Then, having time before the meal, Anders looked around, sighed and started to pack his things. There wasn’t a lot of it that needed to go with him. He had a few outfits, some material left, for making various things, such as sheets of linen for gambeson and some scrap metal for mail. Some pens and paper as well, which had been either made or purchased by him. A few texts, being mainly things that he’d written, as well.
That and the pack he’d taken to the war with him. When it was time, instead of lamenting that his home was being removed from him, Farad simply pointed out that it was the place of the boy to leave his home at some point. Most would be going into an apprenticeship, but that would still require leaving, to live at the home or shop of their new master.
Anders simply took a breath and then nodded. The boy gave a slightly dark laugh.
“This is a known thing. Still, it feels a bit dire, doesn’t it?”
It truly did. Which meant, after leaving his room, he kept his mind sharp and eyes moving, ready for attacks to come. Instead, he simply moved off to the high hall, to find nearly a hundred people standing out in front of the room, dressed in finery, chattering calmly with one another. There were polite smiles, and tittering at various things, meant to be derisive without starting a fight or battle.
None of which was sent his way, as of yet.
A few people looked at him, and one or two gave small waves, which he did back. After all, being sent away didn’t mean he had to do so with a lack of grace. He felt a bit dark, but pasted a smile on his face, which meant he was pleasantly appointed that way when his mother, in a lovely white gown, a voluminous thing with lace and pink ribbons, moved to him and touched his arm.
“Anders! In fine robes, as well. A different style, aren’t they?”
They were, but she’d seen the like before. On him, even. She didn’t seem to be announcing something to the others there, either. It was simply her making conversation.
“An overcoat with loose trousers, to make it easier to move. Depak Sona showed me how to make them, down in Barquea. I love your gown, is it new?”
She smiled sweetly then.
“It is. Princess Lissa designed and made it for me, using magic. Much of this season’s new clothing designs here at court comes from that direction. Princess Javina has focused on men’s fashions, which is evident on many here this night.” She tilted her head, but didn’t turn to stare at anyone. That would be rude, after all. He glanced, carefully, and noticed that she was, indeed, correct.
Many of the men were in styles vaguely like those of Barquea. Different as well. The colors were a bit cheerier than those used in the south, but the cuts were definitely similar. Anders was in shining blue with pictures of birds in black and red all over the overcoat he wore, so actually fit in better than he would have figured, at first.
There was a call for the meal to begin, from the door, an invisible servant doing the work on that, and as they moved toward the door, a man in a fine black outfit, Howard, one of the head servants there, bowed to him.
“Sir Brolly?”
He stopped, with Lyse looking on, standing next to him. She didn’t stiffen or act affronted, so he figured it wasn’t that uncommon to be stopped at the door.
“Howard. How may I aid you this day?”
The man smiled, seeming to mean it. As if he wasn’t normally called by name there. Anders wasn’t close to the old man, but he’d known of him his entire life. Claiming otherwise seemed low to him.
The fellow gave a single half nod.
“You’ve been requested to sit at the hand of the King? You as well, Lady Lyse. If you’ll both follow?”
The man turned, walking away then, at a steady, unrushed pace. Clearly, they were following, even if they’d been asked if they wished to do so. That was likely how such things were done there. Anders wouldn’t truly know, having only eaten at the high hall once before. He’d been far down the table at the time as well, on that occasion. This time he was taken to the top of the table, and discovered that sitting at the hand of the King meant he was placed several people down, on the left.
Truly, he was settled next to Princess Aisla, who had Princess Peri between her and Prince Robarts. His mother was seated directly next to him, however, which was interesting to see. Aisla gave him a concerned look, but then took in his robes and offered a smile.
“You came as a Magician? Interesting.” That was all she was able to mutter, since King Mathias entered the room, the last to get there, with everyone standing.
“Please, everyone, be seated.” That caused a clatter in the space, as people tried to be graceful as they found their seats, the men aiding the women in doing so. He nearly missed that portion of things, but managed to copy what Prince Robarts did for Princess Peri, holding her seat away and then gently sliding it in for her, so that her large dress wouldn’t get in the way.
It meant doing that for Aisla, first, then spinning efficiently and aiding his mother, who smiled at him in a kindly fashion.
“Thank you, Anders.”
Only then did he seat himself, finding the move matched in time by Prince Erold, who was directly across from him. Next to his wife, with Princess Salina on the other side of him. Just down from there was Depak Sona and Hoatha. Both of them were, he noticed, in robes as well. Depak had the nicest design, of course. The man was brilliant in that way.
The King remained standing, and smiled, looking at several of the people there at the table.
“We are holding a special feast this night, for the heroes who so handily defeated our enemies in Yanse. My son, Prince Erold, who stood in the front lines of battle, using magic to drive the evil forces of Yanse back into their own lands. Princess Salina, of Barquea, who, in her own person did the same, facing death boldly and with a might that will surely ring in legend!” He continued onward, down the table.
Fixing Depak with a smile and a kindly expression.
“Master Depak Eta and his father, Master Hoatha Eta, created grand magics to aid our forces, which again, I have to imagine we will be telling our children and their children about!”
The man stopped then, and turned his gaze toward Anders.
“We of course, all of us here, know that well over half of those who fell to our forces did so at the arrow point and magics of Anders Brolly. My grandson.” On the last words, the room went deathly silent. A single chair scratched on the floor, at the far end of the table. A few soft gasps could be heard as well. Lyse stiffened and touched his right arm.
Anders didn’t look away from the man. Naming him as a relative hadn’t been in the plans mentioned. If anything, it made the whole situation more dangerous for the King, if he feared plotting against him. It would, in a way, make Anders Brolly seem a more legitimate person to place on the throne, some day.
The King went on, smiling.
“Magic, our birthright held back, due to old fears, is now the future of Istlan. To that end, after refusing the rule of the land of Yanse, out of wisdom and care for their people, and the offer of the title of duke, here in Istlan, as he feels himself too youthful to fairly rule as of yet, we came to the conclusion that Istlan needs a great college. One of magic and learning, as well as military might! This shall be provided for by the crown, so that, if we are ever threatened in the times to come, we will not ever again be found struggling in regards of magic or those willing to use their skill on our behalf. To that end, Anders Brolly is now named the Headmaster of this facility, to be built within a mile of the castle walls.”
No one moved for a moment, then, toward the middle of the table, a single voice rang out.
“Hail the Headmaster!” It was Count Verit, for some reason. His voice carried nicely.
So did everyone else, as they called the word out. Not in perfect unison, but the request seemed well enough met.
“Hail!”
Anders, or at least Farad, felt mildly embarrassed, but the boy inside simply ducked his head, in the King’s direction, humbly. No one called for a speech, so he held to his seat.
Then the King went on.
“There was also, as a reward, a mention of cake? You have to eat your greens first, of course...” The words were wry, and no one laughed at them, until Anders did, clapping a bit at the same time. Then the room burst, merrily.
After that, the King settled into his large chair, a thing grand, though made of metal covered wood. As soon as he was slid into place, since the thronelike chair was too heavy to be easily managed by one man, so had two servants to help with that effort, the room flooded with men, all dressed in black uniforms, pushing carts and carrying trays, which were brought to each person, so they could ask for what they wished.
There were large trenchers, but also fine metal plates placed under them. Anders understood that one didn’t eat the trencher, of course. They were made without salt, to make that unpalatable. On purpose. There was no bread other than that, but it was a status symbol that they didn’t have to have filling things like mere bread to sate their hunger. Instead, they had rich sauces, made of cream, butter and wine, over tender cuts of meat. There were at least six kinds of that being served that evening. Pork, and beef, venison and lamb. Several types of fowl, as well. Each laid delicately on the bread, with sauces ladled over them, as desired.
There were, indeed greens, which could, normally, be refused. The man serving him, grinning a bit, and added a very large scoop of the cooked leaves and herb and then placed another on top of it. That jest got the man smirked at by Princess Aisla. It was funny, if a bit annoying, since it was a lot of food to eat.
Not that he wasn’t going to be able to manage it. The truth was that he’d been undereating again. It was hard, in the field, to find enough food, and the road was only a little better. So, using good manners, he ate the cooked greens first, then polished off the perfectly prepared meats, doing so slowly, since that was required of one using proper manners. It meant he was finished when everyone else was, but several of the people around him had been served far less food.
Then there were several more courses, none of them being very large. A selection of cheeses in one, a single small serving of reduced fruit juice in another, with, after six such courses, a grand cake being brought out. As promised, it was the fruit kind, with delicate sweet dainties decorating it. There were hundreds of little animal figures on the tray around it, which he was looking at rather closely in fact, as the whole cake, pale white dainties and all, started to slide off the giant platter. There were two men holding it, and while vast, it probably wasn’t more weight than the sturdy men could manage. Not normally.
It seemed to him, as he pointed at it, that part of the cake itself had collapsed.
As he watched it travel forward, off the platform it was on, it occurred to him that he didn’t have a phrase for cake, tray, or even food, as a basic portion of what was needed. So, he touched the cake with his mind, using wizard skills, and focused hard. Indicating what he wanted to affect with pure will.
“Fla fen ot...” The cake, tray and all, halfway to the ground, slowly started to raise back upward. It took a few seconds, but the men collected themselves and moved the tray under the grand cake, and using hastily provided paddles, managed to push the whole, rather weighty, pastry upright. Finally, the men readied themselves and one of them spoke, softly.
“We should have it now, Anders.”
“Fen.”
They didn’t lose it, even as the weight of it hit again. It was placed on the table, in front of the King, who smiled and clapped his hands several times. Joyfully.
“Ah! Floating cake! Amazing. Now, this looks wonderful. We should all have some.”
That was served efficiently, and Anders had to agree that it was well done. It was served with a rich sauce made of brandy, butter and sugar, poured over each slice, with a singular dainty on the side of the dish. It was, he had to think, the nicest treat that he’d ever eaten. He’d had similar things, at high holidays, of course, but clear care had been put into every portion of the dish in front of him.
Savoring it, he barely noticed when the rest of the table was finished. He didn’t hurry, much, but ate all of it, before the dish was taken away. In the end he was full enough that he doubted he could have managed to eat anything more that day. He wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was a close thing, he had to imagine.
After the table was cleared of dishware, people stood and talked, moving into the outer hall again, standing and mingling, instead of seeing to any sort of valuable work. He figured on standing for a while himself, with no one speaking to him, but several came and collected around him.
Countess Rainly, a friend of his, after an odd fashion, moved in and gave him a small hug.
“Sir Brolly! What amazing news. We’re to have our own college of magic, here in Istlan? Will you have weather work, in the curriculum?”
He tilted his head, then nodded.
“If possible. Our main initial focus will be on those areas of use in warfare. So, that fits. Not that I have any idea how that’s done. Would you be able to recommend someone who might wish to be an instructor, of such topics?”
She was a countess, so asking her to do it would, naturally, be beneath her station. She simply did a slow curtsey.
“I have some friends who might be well suited for such a position, in fact. I should... Get introductions for them? How are you taking applications?”
He didn’t have a plan for that, but after a moment, came up with something. It was a start, at least.
“By introduction, and direct contact. People can also simply come and find me, and will be tested, for their skills and to make certain they’re suited to teaching. That won’t be taking place until the fall season, since I have some small works to attend to before then, in the north.” That felt slow, and as if he were making excuses, but the Countess smiled hugely.
“That soon? Amazing! You have to have the buildings constructed first though, or is there a facility you can use already on the land?”
“I don’t know? I was planning to simply do the work on that myself. Using magic? It should only take a few days. Perhaps a week, if I make it very nice? That won’t be the major issue. I simply promised a gift to Duke Lister and his wife Princess Jasmin. Rather, I promised to attend with some others as they gave their own gifts. They’re raising a palace for him.”
The woman looked concerned for a moment, then rather slowly, leaned in.
“That sounds advanced. You’re doing this for them? At another’s behest?”
“Oh, no. I think that the Barquean Princesses are planning to do that, in the main. Prince Erold and Princess Mathia plan to aid in it as well? That might have changed, so I need to check on that again.”
The woman closed her eyes then.
“Remarkable. I wasn’t aware that such things could be done, much less by our own people. How good is the work, do you think?”
Several people moved in around him, seeming interested in the answer. They got one, from Depak Sona, who smiled as he did it.
“Ah? The work is very high end, at least when done well. The same as any crafting, in that way. We should, perhaps, offer a small example of such, tomorrow, Anders? If you have the time, of course?”
Anders didn’t have anything else planned, so thought for a few seconds.
“The new site for the school is supposed to be within a mile of the castle, but I don’t know where it will be placed, exactly. I... There might be need for a new shed or outbuilding here? Let me check on that. If nothing else we could raise something and then take it down, for the practice of the thing. That sounds like a good enough plan. We could arrange for a picnic, perhaps? For those watching, if they wish to stay for it.”
Countess Rainly touched his arm.
“That would be a wonder! Thank you, Sir Brolly. Now, after being demanding and pushing at you for my own amusement, what other plans do you have coming? You’re back from the war, so a rest of some sort, for a while? You mentioned a relaxing journey to oversee construction?”
It was a strange thing to repeat and in a different fashion than he’d presented things, which had him looking around, to see that a good portion of the room had pressed in around him, as if he, personally, might be interesting.
On seeing that, he smiled at the Countess. It was clear the woman was trying to aid him, not harm him, in some strange courtly fashion.
“Indeed, Countess. A bit of a pleasure voyage, for myself, as several others head to Duchy Lister to raise a fine castle for the new duke. Not a journey that will last too long, of course, since I have a new duty to attend to. That’s most exciting, isn’t it? If anyone knows of a person of magical talents, please ask them to apply to the new school, when the doors open. That won’t be long, if all goes well.”
He figured his portion was finished for the moment, and readied himself to attend to whoever was speaking. Instead, he was tugged, by the arm, backwards several steps. He made a fist with his right hand, and was getting ready to make someone explode, when he looked over to see that it was Prince Robarts.
“Sorry there, Anders. I was trying to get your attention, not pull you over half the room. Would you be free to see to some small efforts? Baroness Dilling’s young daughter has fallen ill. A fever and aching middle? It’s likely nothing, but mothers will dote on their only children.”
Finding his balance again, releasing his fist instantly, Anders looked around. There was no child in the room, as far as he could see.
“Could you have me directed to her? The child, that is.”
The man simply turned and walked away. Assuming that it was either him being taken in the correct direction, or the man seeking someone to do that task for him, he followed along, waving to the others there.
“Sorry, a small matter arose. Forgive me my early retreat.”
Several people there muttered, which mainly seemed to be suggestions that they’d meet again, perhaps soon. He had to quicken his pace to keep up with the Prince however, who, even if his words had been calm on the matter, seemed a good bit more concerned in his actions.
Once in the hallway, the man nearly ran, he walked so quickly.
“The child is burning up. It doesn’t seem to be the red fever, but poison is feared. I didn’t want to announce it to the room, but Baron Billings is suffering the same affliction, and a servant who attended them is in the same state.”
A few frantic minutes later, Anders was lead through a sturdy door, in the visiting nobles’ wing. It was a place that he’d been to before, the hall at least, but only a few times. Prince Robarts didn’t knock or call out first. Inside the room, groaning in pure agony, were the little girl and her father.
Anders moved to the child first. She was smaller after all, and that could mean the poison would act on her faster. He dropped into a trance, closed his eyes and touched her head. That was warm, so he dealt with that first.
“Li homa indict swerla ina einest ere ot ere, fen ot...”
The little girl snapped her eyes open, and took a large shuddering breath.
“It doesn’t hurt?”
Anders nodded, and moved, quickly, to the man, in the next bed. He wasn’t an old fellow or anything, being about twice Anders own age.
Then he started the real work. He found the poison, inside of each of them, and then, very carefully, called it out through their skin, leaving everything else inside of them. It had to be caught in a drinking glass, and took some moments, but showed two thimbles full of inky black, nearly purple, substance.
“We need Master Seness, to see if he can identify this substance. I need to be led to the servant who’s also ill.”
That took yelling, which Prince Robarts did himself.
It got results, Anders had to admit. He was found by Alice Cook, who scurried down the hallway, her skirt raised gently, to prevent tripping.
“There’s need?” She was a bit out of breath, and looked slightly frantic, but Anders didn’t make the Prince speak.
“There’s an ill servant? Poisoned, it seems. I need to see him as quickly as possible.”
The girl turned then.
“It’s Len, the new footman. This way, Anders.”
Unlike the Prince, she actually ran. It was close enough that Len probably lived due to that fact. Still, he produced as much of the inky black substance pulled from him as the other two had combined. Unlike the others, even after all the spells were used, Len didn’t instantly rouse. He did, after some minutes, open his eyes, however. There was no speech, but he managed to move his lips.
Anders didn’t lean in to hear, simply focusing, clearing his mind, then, when nothing else was intruding, he touched the man’s thoughts.
What he was trying to say was very clear. Fading though, even as Anders watched it happen. As if the spark of sensibility had left him, in that very moment. Not his life, but the actions of his inner self were wearing so quickly that Anders doubted he could have saved the man, even if he knew how. After a moment, still breathing, the man rested on his bed, unmoving, with no real thought left, at all.
“The wine. It was a soft red, served with the meal. Len had the last third of the bottle, with his own late meal, so as to not waste it.”
Anders, who had been standing by the bed, turned to look at Alice and found that Prince Robarts was there as well. He’d missed that part of things, the other man following them.
He spoke to both of the others, as if he hadn’t been taken unaware in his trance state.
“We need to find the bottle that the new wine was in. Then, if we can, should work out who had control over that particular bottle, if we can. We need Master Tolan for this. Fenris Demo Gull and Princess Mathia as well.”
The various names probably didn’t make sense to anyone else, but Prince Robarts simply yelled again, trusting in him, for some strange reason.
“Master Tolan, Fenris Gull, Princess Mathia, attend to the kitchens!”
That was called out, voices raising over the entire castle, seeking to lure those specific people.
He turned, and looked at the red-haired woman behind him.
“Alice, have you been learning magic?”
She looked scared suddenly. Probably because he sounded almost mean and abrupt.
“Yes, but I didn’t...”
He held up his hand to get her to be silent. Which worked, surprisingly.
“You kept with it, with Princess Lissa?”
“Right. Even when the coin stopped. It’s clearly too good of a gift to reject. Why?”
“Because, I want you to take two guards and go protect Baron Billings and his family. They probably won’t be attacked, but be on the lookout for anything that might be amiss. Watch the mother, but don’t let on that you’re observing her.” His only reason there was that the woman hadn’t been poisoned.
Due, most likely, to having had real wine with her meal, not the new wine, which was practically juice. Still, if the woman wanted her family dead, that would be as good a way to remove them as anything else. Slip a bit of something dire into a drink she didn’t normally have, and people would run all over the castle, seeking the culprit, while she mourned for her lost family.
Anders didn’t wait, simply checking on that, without permission or concern for such. When he opened his eyes, he looked at the Heir.
“The Baroness had nothing to do with this. That should be checked again, by Master Tolan but I’m confident in that finding.”
The man nodded, and moved into the hallway, dragging Anders by the arm, if gently. He waved to the hall guards, of which there were two.
“We need two guards on Baron Billings and his family. Alice will act as your magical support for that. No one gets in to see them. No one, unless myself, the King or Master Brolly here are personally in attendance.”
The men both stood straight, their tidy gray outfits seeming official, even if he’d seen them his entire life.
“Understood. We’ll get that going and pass the information.”
Both men looked at Alice, as if it were a bit odd for a serving girl, or more correctly a kitchen helper and cook, to be seeing to that sort of duty. Anders didn’t bother explaining, simply moving off to the kitchen.
Once there, Anders raised his left hand, focusing on the bottle that might have a hint of poison still on it. Only to find himself pointing to the scullery, where, next to the deep washing sink, with two young men working hard at cleaning things, he located the brown glass object he needed. Just about to be scrubbed.
“Hold! Don’t get that wet, Tolly! It has poison in it.”
The boy froze in place, looking worried.
“Anders? I didn’t do nothing!”
He grinned at the younger boy, who was a few years younger than himself.
“I know. We just need to use that bottle, without it being washed, to find out who did. Thank you, Tolly. Let me take that...” He simply grabbed the thing, the bad part of it still in the liquid, a last swallow at the very bottom, with bits of granules mixed throughout. New wine did that, so he doubted it was a sign of anything useful.
Still, he had that in hand, with Prince Robarts next to him, when the others they’d called for arrived. Princess Mathia got there last, hampered no doubt by her skirt.
“Get into robes, like mine. The ones with trousers. They’re easier to run in. Baron Billings and his daughter, as well as Footman Len were poisoned. We need to find out who did it, as soon as possible.”
Master Tolan took the bottle, his eyes closed, without any more being explained.
Then the older man nodded, his eyes haunted.
“Clever... We’re in for a bit of a hunt, it would seem.”
Then, maddeningly, he didn’t add anything else.