Chapter Seven: Sword and Shield

Previously: My Ladies

 

"My lady, you have a guest."

 

Mireille du Maurier was sitting at her vanity, playing with her jewels. It was a new hobby she'd developed over the past couple of days. In the early hours, before the sun was fully awake, she liked to sit at her vanity by the window. In the mirror, she watched her jewels glitter in the pale morning light.

 

Each one had a story. The amethyst necklace was a gift from her mother for her sixteenth birthday. The pearls were passed down from her ancestresses; according to legend they first belonged to one Comtesse du Laurenne. There wasn't much canon lore about her, except that she lived during the Golden Age of Everen, the continent where The Barony of Westervale was set.

 

They never set these games during the golden ages, Mireille snorted. Imagine the parties.

"Who is it?" she absently asked, admiring her sapphire necklace. It was a gift from the Comtesse de Marivelle, just before Mireille left Valeronne.

 

"Sir Adrian Thornmere, my lady."

 

Mireille's head snapped toward Edith. Her brow furrowed. "Has he come to check on his sister? So soon?"

 

"No, my lady," Edith replied with a slow smirk. "He came to see you."

 

Mireille blinked rapidly. But why...?

 

Then she remembered. She'd paid off his family debts.

 

She wasn't fast-forwarding as much anymore. The computer had warned her again that different tasks—triggering the treaty between Avenholt and Orsyna, settling Matilda's dowry, and paying off the Thornmere debts—all required different steps and different time frames. If she fast-forwarded through one, she risked missing out on the others.

 

She hastily rose from her vanity and touched her hair. "Well? How do I look?"

 

"Immaculate as always," Edith assured her, smiling then taking a sip from her glass goblet. She seemed to be drinking all the time now, but Mireille didn't mind. It hadn't impacted her work. She was probably just indulging after years of austerity. Mireille figured she'd get bored with wine eventually.

 

The Viscountess quit her chamber and quickly descended the stairs. She sped past the servants in the hall on the way to her sitting room, where Sir Adrian stood tall and stiff, like a sentinel.

 

When he saw her, he turned all the way towards her and bowed low. "My lady."

 

"Sir Adrian," she said hesitantly. "What... to what do I owe this surprise?"

 

"I have come to thank you for buying my family's debt," he said, watching her carefully. "You have our gratitude. I will request that the Baron discharge me at once, so that I may enter your service and pay off our debt."

 

Mireille stared at him for a long moment, before finally realizing what he was saying.

 

"You... don't owe me, Sir Adrian," she said haltingly, trying not to be awkward. "The point of paying the debt was to grant you freedom from being in debt."

 

Now it was his turn to stare, then blink. It was amusing to watch him struggle for a moment.

 

"Then my lady... desires nothing in return...?" he asked, trying to hide his growing bewilderment.

 

Mireille smiled benevolently. "You've already granted me the comfort of your sister's company. If you wish, you can see for yourself that she is indeed thriving under my care. We've begun our lessons—lute, embroidery, Avenish dancing—and together we are terrible at all of them," she chuckled. When he didn't laugh, she assured him, "We will get better in time, Sir Adrian."

 

"My lady," Adrian began, once again using his most diplomatic tone, "your reputation for generosity is well-earned. But unlike the nobles who are happy to accept it in exchange for some unknown future favor, my family cannot. We pay our debts, and I do owe you a debt."

 

Mireille sighed, already weary. "Sir Adrian—"

 

"I will formally request that the Baron discharge me from my service so that I can join yours," he said determinedly. "You are a Viscountess, but I've noticed you never leave your manor. Is it perhaps because you have no guards?"

 

Mireille's eyes were the size of saucers. "You would...stay here?"

 

He was surprised by her reaction. "A lady should have protection," he said, visibly baffled. "I realize you only recently purchased this house, but a woman of your rank requires proper guard. You can't walk about Ravensbridge with maids or seneschals alone. It's not safe."

 

"You are right," she agreed. "However, if you are to join my household, I would pay you the wages befitting a knight. You would sign a contract, same as you did with Lord Corwin. And I will hear no more of debt, understand?"

 

Adrian stood straight, unsheathed his sword, planted it before her and knelt. "I am your sword and shield, my lady."

 

Mireille's heart nearly stopped as she gazed upon the beautiful man before her. She had worried that all her machinations were for naught, that it would take yet several more gaming sessions before they could be near each other.

 

"I accept," she said awkwardly, not sure what to say or do. "The Baron may balk at losing his best knight. How much is your contract, so that Godwin may buy him out?"
 

***

  

"Thirty crowns?"

 

Mireille could actually see the vein straining on Godwin's forehead. His face was flushed and he gripped his pen tightly.

 

"The Baron is behind on a few bills, so what?" Edith chided him, goblet in hand, lounging near the seneschal's desk. "Besides, we need protection, Godwin. You know this. What kind of Viscountess has no guards?"

 

"A knight of Sir Adrian's caliber costs a hundred and fifty crowns a year," the balding seneschal warned. "And that's before horses, equipment, and the additional guards he intends to hire. At most, your farms produce five hundred."

 

"Then write to Lord Fairmont about the farmland he was willing to give away with his daughter," Mireille suggested, hands on hips. "And find out who else is willing to sell farmland in Westervale."

 

Godwin was flabbergasted. "But that would mean more staff!"

 

Mireille scowled. "You have families, don't you? Siblings, cousins and the like, all looking for work?"

 

The seneschal and lady's maid exchanged looks. Mireille had read about them both. Godwin had an elderly mother, three sisters all abandoned by their husbands, and several nieces and nephews. The whole family was cramped into a cottage in the village of Oakbury, ten miles north of Ravensbridge.

 

Meanwhile, Edith was the oldest of twelve children, all still living. And she had countless cousins. Her family originally hailed from Millcross, about fifteen miles northeast of Ravensbridge, but they were now spread out all over Westervale.

 

Both came from poor families with several mouths to feed and plenty of able bodies needing work. 

 

"Hire them!" Mireille exclaimed, when their silence dragged on too long. "For every piece of land we acquire, staff it with your own relatives... and at least two horses."

 

Edith was glowing. "Thank you, my lady," she said, breathlessly awestruck.

 

Godwin was speechless at first. "Indeed," he finally murmured. "You are very thoughtful. We'll have to move quickly though. Planting season is almost over."

 

"Then see it done," Mireille commanded with a sigh. "Edith, prepare a suite for Sir Adrian and instruct him to hire more guards as he sees fit."

 

"We have barracks on the property," Edith advised. "Lord Rosemere never used them, but I'm sure we can clean and furnish them quickly."

 

"Good," Mireille said with a nod. Things finally seemed to be going her way. 

 

Edith left first, but before Mireille could follow, Godwin stopped her.

 

"My lady, I received a letter from Lord Corwin."

 

Mireille's heart leaped in her chest. "Yes?"

 

"What's this about a fifteen thousand-crown dowry you promised to pay for Matilda?" The seneschal's tone was calm, but that vein of his was swelling again.

 

Her eyebrow went up. "Did he accept?"

 

"Of course he accepted," Godwin said, almost snapping at her. "The King himself would accept such a sum."

 

"So what's the problem?"

 

"The problem?" He stared at her in dismay. "The problem is that you only have twenty thousand crowns!"

 

"I won't be using those," she assured him, shaking her head. "I told you I had extra money, remember?"

 

"That extra money could help with the land acquisitions, the salaries for the new staff," he told her. He lowered his voice. "We will need every extra crown to survive the war with Orvienne."

 

Mireille smirked. “I know my geography, Godwin. I grew up in Orvienne. It lies across the breadth of Avenholt, on the far southeastern frontier from us. Calderra—and all her glittering coastal cities—is directly to our southwest. We ourselves are not far from the western coast; the harbor town of Greenhaven is but a two-day ride from here. Which means,” she said, taking a step forward, hands on hips, “when the war begins, it will be the eastern and southern provinces in harm’s way. Their roads will carry the armies. Their trade routes will be disrupted, not ours. We will weather this war just fine.” 

 

She fleetingly wondered if the computer was listening somewhere, and feeling proud. 

 

"The rest of your money is in Orvienne," he bit out. "When the war breaks out, getting to it will be almost impossible. And with your spending—"

 

Mireille snorted, then laughed aloud. "Do you jest? With this investment, Godwin, we will own House Foxmere, and the Baron of Westervale. That debt will take generations to repay, and unlike the Thornmeres, we will collect that debt. And as to my spending..." She shrugged. "I have bank accounts in three countries. War or no war, I will always have access to funds."

 

And there it was. Finally, after all this time, she saw it. A light flared in Godwin's eyes. She could practically hear the gears whirling in his brain as he considered the possibilities at their fingertips.

“The Baron controls the market charters, the river tolls, and nearly every transfer of land in Westervale,” he said, his voice lowering. “If House Foxmere owes its rise to you, and House Ravenshaw owes its solvency to you...”

“Then neither can afford to tell me no,” Mireille finished.

Godwin slowly nodded. “The marriage settlement must name you as Matilda’s benefactor. We should release only enough coin to secure the betrothal, then pay the remainder in increments. Not because we expect the money returned,” he added thoughtfully, “but because gratitude is most reliable while something remains to be given.”

Mireille smiled. “Now you understand.”

“We shall need an advocate to prepare the settlement,” Godwin continued. “Someone discreet—and clever enough to ensure that every crown purchases more than gratitude.”

“Of course,” Mireille said simply. “And Godwin?” She cocked her head to the side. “Think of something you want, really want. Something that will make you happy. When you figure out what that is, see it done.”