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Rikara, in the 2961st year of the Common Age
Fifty-three years ago
Yovan pulled his wool cloak more snugly around his shoulders as he strode down the path to the State University east gate. Winter in the capital was not something to sniff at unless one hailed from the more frigid climes of the far north. He would gladly welcome the upcoming recess a fortnight hence.
Most faculty and students had taken to commuting by carriage for protection against the elements or on steedback to hasten the trip back to their lodgings. But for Yovan, the short distance from the University to his home was better traversed by walking.
He stepped onto the pedestrian path outside the University grounds and headed south to cross the north district’s main avenue and walk three streets down from the intersection to reach Lewyn Street. Heavy snowfall had held off thus far. The city’s thoroughfares were clear and passable.
As he approached the intersection, two students coming around the corner at a run all but crashed into him. He stumbled backward and lost his grip on two books and a large envelope. They plopped onto a patch of muddy snow.
“Heyas!” He snatched up the books and envelope and scowled at the mud stains on all three. He turned and glared at the students. “Is it too much to ask that you watch where you’re blundering?”
“Apologies, Master Seydon!”
“We didn’t mean to, Dyhar.”
Yovan said, “You’re lucky it wasn’t Master Ervath you nigh mowed down.” The youths paled at the mention of the most feared instructor at the University.
After admonishing them one more time, Yovan sent them on their way. But before moving on, he paused to examine his belongings, pushing back his hood so he could get a better look at them in the failing light. The chilly air was uncomfortable, but luckily Yovan was less susceptible to the cold than most.
It was while he was checking if the largest damp spot on the envelope had seeped all the way through that he sensed he was being watched. He half turned and spotted a rider just outside the University stable gate several paces away.
The Deir’s fur-lined hood and thick neck scarf obscured his face, but Yovan glimpsed eyes that openly inspected him. He seemed quite young to be a university student. A frosh perhaps? Just as he considered asking the Deir what had merited him such scrutiny, the latter turned his steed onto the avenue and rode away.
Yovan shrugged and finished looking the envelope over. He was accustomed to being stared at. Scions of the great noble houses while uncommon were still far more numerous than members of Ylandre’s ruling family. To find one’s self in the vicinity of a royal-blooded Deir was a rare occurrence for the majority of Deira. It was a phenomenon so singular that even after six years of secondary schooling at the Rikara Academy and another six at the State University, Yovan’s instructors, schoolmates and now students continued to regard him with equal parts awe and curiosity.
Only during his primary and elementary years did his peers treat him no differently from themselves or others. It bolstered the unpopular belief that the upholding of class divisions was imposed, not inborn.
A brisk breeze suddenly kicked up, biting enough to spur even one with his tolerance for cold weather to seek the warmth and comfort of hearth and home.
––––––––
As he turned onto Lewyn Street, he noted a dearth of traffic which made the sole carriage present very distinct. It was one of the costliest he’d ever seen.
Even from a distance he could tell the vehicle was custom-built and extensively fitted with gilt-edged moldings and doors and gold-framed windows shaded by silver-shot crimson curtains. It was drawn by four thoroughbred equines. Astride the lead mount was a postillion, which Yovan thought rather excessive in light of the coach driver behind him and the two grooms hanging on to the rear. All were liveried within an inch of their lives.
The carriage had been designed to flaunt wealth, but the wealth was either recently acquired or the owner had little to no guidance in matters of taste. Yovan would have deemed it the gaudiest contraption he’d ever laid eyes on had he not already seen worse in his thirty six years.
To his surprise, the carriage stopped in front of the Seydon house. A moment later, the door opened and a Deir alighted. Yovan gawked when he recognized his sire.
Laval bid someone goodbye and then walked up the steps to the front door and entered the house. Yovan quickened his pace, curious to discover who his sire had hitched a ride with. He looked the carriage over and noted the lack of heraldic bearings. An icy gust interrupted his scrutiny and he hurried up the stairs to the covered stoop.
Just as he reached the door, he once more felt someone’s gaze upon him. He looked over his shoulder in time to see the carriage window curtain jerkily drawn. Yovan watched the vehicle pull away from the kerb and rumble down the street. Only when it turned the corner did he enter the house.
The butler met him in the foyer and took his cloak and gloves. “Your parents wish for you to join them in the blue parlor, Master Yovan,” the Deir informed him as he made to ascend the stairs to the upper floor
“Did they say why?”
“Nay, Dyhar. But they expressed the hope you wouldn’t take too long.”
Yovan frowned and headed upstairs. Ordinarily, they held family discussions during meals. For his parents not to wait until supper meant they needed to talk about something urgent. As he approached the parlor, a sense of foreboding came upon him. Was he involved in a significant way?
He opened the door and stepped into the room. His parents sat huddled on the sapphire-hued couch before the fireplace. They were talking softly and so immersed in their conversation, they did not notice his entry, not even Evran who was as mind-sensitive as his son. Furthermore, Laval was still clad in his tunic and boots. He had gone directly to the parlor as soon as he arrived.
Yovan walked to them and seated himself on a side chair, startling his parents out of their hushed exchange. Evran huffed a laugh and shook his head.
“Stealthy as ever even in your own home. Really, Van, do you fancy yourself a cat on the prowl?”
“It’s hardly my fault I tread so softly,” Yovan retorted with a small grin. He regarded his parents curiously. “Is there something you wish to talk about?”
Evran’s cheerfulness faltered and the beginnings of Laval’s smile faded. The two glanced at each other whereupon Laval sighed and faced Yovan.
“I just came from a meeting at Bank Cordona,” he began. “We discussed the terms of a loan I applied for the other day.”
Yovan frowned. “What need have you for a loan?”
Laval exhaled heavily. “To pay my creditors before they haul me to court.”
“Court?” Yovan sat back. “Are you saying you have substantial debts you’ve been unable to pay?” His frown deepened when Laval nodded. “How can this be? And why in Aisen do you think it a sound idea to incur even more debt to pay your creditors?”
“I don’t. But if I take out a loan through Bank Cordona, there would be room for negotiation and lower interest rates unlike with the moneylenders.”
Yovan frowned. “You borrowed from the moneylenders?”
“Yes,” Laval reluctantly admitted.
“But they charge usurious rates. Why didn’t you go to the bank before approaching the lenders?”
“I did, but they turned down my application on the grounds that the venture I planned to invest in was too speculative for their comfort,” Laval explained.
That was not surprising. The Cordonas were Ylandre’s foremost banking family whose phenomenal rise to wealth began in a moneylender’s stall in Rikara’s main market in the central district. They would never have risen thusly if they’d been imprudent in their business dealings such as the financing of risky investments that could not guarantee timely repayment.
“Small wonder you look woeful,” Yovan commented. “I suppose they didn’t approve the loan.”
Laval fidgeted until his spouse gripped his hand soothingly. “On the contrary, they, that is, Asrael Cordona agreed to provide the sum I asked for.”
Yovan stared in disbelief. The head of the Cordona family was known for his hardheaded acumen. Hardly the sort of Deir to tender sympathy for a stranger who’d shown an inability to pay what he owed.
“Why would Cordona approve a loan intended to settle debts?” Yovan asked. “It makes no sense.”
“Actually, he, ah, suggested a trade of, er, favors.”
“What favors?” Yovan felt his patience wear thin and his anxiety grow thick. “Please, Aba, speak plainly.”
Laval pursed his lips then dipped his chin in apparent resolve.
“I assume you’re aware of the Cordonas’ standing in society.”
Yovan shrugged. “They have none. All their wealth cannot compensate for their obscure bloodline. Though considering how much they’ve contributed to this kingdom’s prosperity, it smacks of hypocrisy to deny them the chance to better their lot in more than financial standing.”
Laval seemed to brighten. “Then you wouldn’t oppose an attempt to gain them acceptance in the right circles.”
“So long as it’s not gained through skullduggery.” Yovan regarded his sire quizzically. “What does their problem have to do with yours?”
“Everything.” Laval glanced at Evran who nodded at him encouragingly. “Cordona offered to settle all my debts if we introduce them to the bluebloods of Rikara and possibly elsewhere in the kingdom.”
Yovan stared at his sire. “Is he desperate to climb the social ladder?”
Laval shook his head. “Not so much desperate as frustrated with their non-acceptance solely because they don’t have the right antecedents. He resents their exclusion whereas even the most impecunious of the gentry may aspire to enter the homes and clubs of the land’s ranking Deira. The latest snub was the last straw.”
“What snub?” Evran asked.
“He expected an invitation to your nephew Imcael’s wedding to Naral Kardova,” Laval replied. “Naral’s sire borrowed heavily from Bank Cordona to purchase a large estate in Anju. The Anjuin Herun holds most of the Kardova wealth and apparently he’s something of a penny-pincher even with his own siblings. Rather odd considering Naral’s brother Javan is his heir. But that’s neither here nor there.”
Laval thinly smiled. “Asrael approved the loan for a pittance of the usual collateral and interest required for such an amount. He only requested that the Kardovas invite him and his spouse to their son’s nuptials. But Imcael declared only highborns and upper gentry were welcome at his wedding, not lowbred Deira whose only claim to distinction is wealth gained by dubious means.”
Evran rolled his eyes. “The pompous arse! I wonder if he’s aware that he gains the Crown more foes than friends behaving as he does.”
“I doubt it given how obtuse he can be if something challenges his notions of right and wrong,” Laval replied. “In any case, Cordona was so offended he’s now determined to gain a place amongst the Deira Imcael deems acceptable if only to spite him.”
“And he wants you to help him,” Yovan slowly said. “Wait, was that he in the gaudy carriage you arrived in?”
“It is rather... overdone.”
Yovan snorted. “You’ll have your work cut out for you if you must start from the basics. And even if you introduce the Cordonas to the highbred of the land, it won’t gain them their acceptance. The gentry might deign to associate with them, but the most they can hope for with bluebloods is polite acknowledgement. Verily only if they were kin would highborns unbend enough to admit them into their midst.”
Laval looked sideways at him. “I did warn him,” he softly said.
“And?”
“Cordona has four sons.”
“What if he does?”
“All of them are wed save for the youngest who is seven years your junior. Asrael assured me that he’s very comely.”
Yovan caught his breath. “Are you suggesting I court his son?” he warily asked.
Laval twitched. “That wouldn’t be enough to make him kin.” He leaned forward and grasped Yovan’s hands. “Cordona offered his son in marriage. I-I agreed to his terms.”
Yovan was speechless for several heartbeats. He stared at his sire, certain he’d misheard.
“Something must be wrong with my ears,” he finally said. “You can’t have possibly agreed to betroth me to a complete stranger.”
He gasped when his father winced while his sire looked away with a pinched expression.
“Deity’s blood! You have sold me to them!” Yovan snatched back his hands and jerked to his feet. “I can’t believe it! Am I mere chattel to you?”
“Nay!” Evran exclaimed. He turned to his spouse pleadingly. “Mayhap we can negotiate—”
Laval shook his head and looked from his spouse to Yovan. Weariness and fear clouded his eyes.
“The creditors will take everything,” he muttered. “We’ll be without house or name.”
“But if we offer our properties as collateral—”
“We only have this house left, Ev. And it’s much less in value than the total amount of my debt.”
“Saints above, what did you squander your money on?” Yovan hoarsely asked. “And why did you keep this from me?”
Evran sat back heavily. “We didn’t want to involve you in our mistakes.”
Yovan huffed. “But now you would use me to fix them.” He grimaced when his parents flinched. “Tell me at least what you did. Oh Veres, you didn’t gamble it all away, did you?”
“Of course not!” Laval snapped only to subside into an embarrassed, “Not at the gaming tables.”
“Then where?”
“As your sire mentioned earlier—investments,” Evran said. “He made a number of misjudgments. And trusted the wrong Deira,” he lamely added.
“I was a fool,” Laval flatly stated. “And a knave to think it fine to make Van pay for my folly.” He sighed. “I’ll tell Cordona our agreement is off.”
“And what of your debts?” Yovan asked.
“I’ll find some other way. Think no more of this.”
Yovan sank down in his chair. “I’m no longer a minor yet you were desperate enough to make an agreement you can’t force on me.” He peered at his sire. “What will happen if you can’t pay? Debtor’s prison?”
Laval smiled crookedly and nodded.
“Fuck the saints,” Yovan whispered.
He gazed at his sire. He was not ill or aged but neither was he young and vigorous. Debtor’s prison would break him if it did not prove the death of him. Yovan drew a shaky breath.
The last thing he’d ever expected was a marriage of convenience for himself and with a stranger to boot. He’d thought to make a match with a Deir he’d at least come to know and perhaps like and thus further the chances of learning to love his mate. As his parents had.
He watched them move closer and reach for each other’s hands to weave their fingers together, their glistening eyes trying to convey comfort and strength.
“You will not break your agreement with Cordona,” Yovan said.
Laval and Evran stared at him, startled.
“This isn’t your doing,” Evran protested. “We’ll find another way.”
“There is no other way. Else you wouldn’t have considered this pact at all,” Yovan pointed out.
Laval hunched down and bit his lower lip. Yovan glimpsed the tears that slid down his cheeks.
“How you must hate me,” Laval mumbled.
Yovan moved to wrap his arms around his sire’s shoulders.
“I could never hate you, Aba,” he murmured.
“Disappointed then,” Laval said in a quivering voice.
Yovan pressed a kiss to his sire’s brow. “An arranged marriage is a small price to pay for your freedom.”