Noble Arcana

The colonies are a different world. A man cannot be judged by who he is on the fringes. It is only his behaviour in Drakthiss proper that truly reflects his character.

Rentus Ryland

The next morning was spent ensuring that all of his things were accounted for and spending more time memorizing runes. The value of the tome was already proving itself, particularly when it came to understanding the works his uncle had left behind. The runes within the suit of armor for instance, he had recognized some of the basic ones for blood and soul, but now he also understood that it would only react to specific types of blood, and that the soul markings were to represent a binding. There was a spirit within the armor, it wasn’t simply an automaton meant to guard the entrance to his study. The specific blood the runes reacted to he presumed would be that of the Morrow family, though he’d need to see them again to be certain.

There was only one problem with the book, and that was that it was an official Union creation. As such while the runes for different elements of magic were listed, no configurations that could lead to forbidden magic were included. Due to this he needed to find configurations he believed would be similar to those and work backward based on his memory of what he’d seen. He wished he’d had the foresight to copy those runes for study during the trip, but the risk of bringing his uncle’s journals was already a high one.

He idly scribbled runes on a page, checking his scriptwork for any mistakes. Once the page was filled he lifted it to the nearby candle, letting it start to burn before tossing it into the fireplace and starting on another page.

In the late morning he took a page and wrote out a simple letter.

I, ________ , do formally end my betrothal to Bernice Morrow. This action is not meant to reflect poorly on the Lady Bernice or the Morrow family. I revoke my right to any dowry and shall waive any promises between myself and the family that were based upon the betrothal.

Solomon finished writing and held up the letter.

“Aristopheles, I ask that you make this letter binding.”

A small shadow in the corner oozed forward until it was on the desk and leaked black smoke. The smoke slowly coiled around the parchment, then tightened, vanishing as if it had never been there.

“Thank you.”

Solomon carefully placed the letter into his jacket. He gently drummed his fingers on the table for a few moments afterward as he was lost in thought. He decided he would try to convince him without magic first. There was a chance that with proper reasoning he could get the man to end things. He’d rather not risk the problems that magic could create, but he would if it was his only option.

He returned to his work and was starting to feel as if he grasped how the puppets his uncle had in the repository functioned when there was a brief knock on the door. He closed the book, placing a stack of parchment on top of it.

“Yes?”

Edmure entered.

“Lord, the carriage is waiting to take us to General Clyturn’s manor.”

Solomon nodded and stood from the desk, throwing on a light coat over his linen shirt and trousers. They walked through the hotel, the Untoss servants turning their heads downward as they passed by.

The carriage was a military one, the general’s own he presumed. It was the dark green of a Drakthiss military uniform and had two large horses drawing it. The general’s manor wasn’t within the city itself, but was instead several miles outside of it. The actual orcish front was closer to the manarite mines that the orcs frequently raided and a few small settlements and towns that frequently changed hands. The orcs were based deeper inland, having their own ships and people arrive on the continent’s northern coast rather than its eastern one.

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As they left the gates they started to head down a wide road trod flat by the Ichthyn. He could see long rolling hills of red grass and small clusters of spindly trees in the distance. He’d catch the occasional glimpse of small creatures he had no words for mixed with the occasional dog or large rat that he was more familiar with.

The general’s manor was an impressive sight. It looked to have once been a native castle on which more familiar buildings had been added. There was a long fence all around the property and dozens of soldiers and their Untoss underlings patrolling around it. The structure itself was painted the opposite way of the buildings back in Manacht proper. Rather than tan stone painted with red, yellow, orange, and brown patterns, the manor was painted entirely orange with the absence of color used to create tan patterns all across it.

The carriage moved quickly to the entrance and Edmure let Solomon out.

The general wasn’t there to meet him, but there was an Untoss woman waiting. She wasn’t dressed as the Untoss women he’d seen had been, but was instead wearing a long dress in Drakthic fashion, her hair only sporting a few braids and otherwise up in a reflection of what he was used to seeing in the mainland. The dress itself was quite fine, at least at the level of quality a local lady would’ve been expected to wear. She curtsied as he approached.

“Quinn is in the middle of a meeting, but he asked that I bring you directly to him once you arrive.”

Solomon kept his expression neutral. It was highly unusual for a servant to be sent to greet him, much less one that wasn’t human. In a situation such as this one protocol would’ve dictated he send a lesser officer to meet him. She also referred to the general by his first name, not calling him ‘Lord Clyturn’, which stood out to him.

He nodded at her, and she turned, guiding him through doors that were propped open to allow a breeze to flow through. They walked past groups of soldiers carrying documents, and servants going about their business until they reached a room with sealed double doors.

The Untoss servant didn’t knock, instead she simply opened the door to the meeting, leading him inside.

Solomon saw a number of men gathered around a table on which a map had been laid out. One of them was pointing at a cluster of red figurines standing up in one corner.

“- gather enough strength then they’ll start targeting the eastern mines again. We should send the Union auxiliaries there to strengthen our position.”

“That would leave the Western road with mostly local recruits for support. You know it’s a risk to leave them without proper supervision. An orcish raid could slip right through.”

One man stood at the head of the rest. He was roughly forty, but muscular and broad, with graying hair, well trimmed mutton chops, and spectacles. When Solomon had last seen him, the man’s hair had been dark brown and he hadn’t needed the glasses.

“Move the auxiliaries, we’ll bring in some of the guilders here in Manacht to help watch the road, and once they arrive we’ll spread the local squads out again.”

The men argued back and forth and at one point Solomon saw a young Untoss boy peering in from the door. He was wearing clothes in Drakthic styles, and he waved to get the Untoss woman’s attention. The boy was a particularly pale color of lavender. Solomon watched as the woman went over and whispered to the boy before following him out.

He gestured to Edmure to approach and leaned in close to whisper to him.

“Do you think you could find out what the situation with that Untoss woman is?” he asked.

Edmure nodded. “I assume you already have a suspicion lord?”

“Same one that I imagine you have, but I’d like confirmation.”

His valet nodded and quietly left the room.

Shortly after the general finished his discussion with the officers and dismissed them, turning his attention to Solomon.

“Lord Morrow,” he said with a nod. “Welcome to Manacht. It seems the winds were kind to you. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of any of our ships making it here from the mainland so quickly.”

Solomon smiled. “I must give all credit to the sailors that escorted me here.”

“I had heard that you helped them to repel some Mer. Perhaps you would’ve been suited to a military life like your brother.”

He shook his head. “No one is more suited to a military life than Vaughn.”

He gestured to the door. “Please, let us move to my personal quarters. My cook should have something ready for us soon.”

He walked, his back perfectly straight as they stepped out into the hall. They made their way to a large series of rooms in the corner of the castle. While the rest of the building had been utilitarian, this section was filled with braided tapestries, intricate pieces of art, and even several ornamental weapons on the wall. Some he recognized as drakthic, but there was a set of swords that seemed to be Untoss, and a massive orcish greataxe. He led him to a small dining room and they both sat down.

Just as they sat Edmure appeared and leaned toward Solomon.

“That was quick,” he said.

“The people here aren’t shy about this piece of gossip. It appears our guesses were correct.”

“Thank you.”

“Have you had a chance to sample the local cuisine?” asked the General as he finished exchanging words with one of his own servants.

Solomon smiled. “Not as thoroughly as you have, I imagine.”