The Vampire & Her Witch

”It’s enough,” Master Tiernan said, picking up a long carving knife and spearing a section of roast boar with enough violence to suggest that he wished it was Owain Lothian before him rather than a hunk of roasted meat.

”Tiernan,” Master Isabell said, looking at him with a complex expression as her normally placid companion lost much of his composure. ”There are still things we should consider. Perhaps we should discuss this privately tonight and return tomorrow,” she said, casting a questioning glance at the dark-haired youth.

”No, we’ve heard enough,” Tiernan said. ”Already, I don’t know how I can tolerate being in that conniving lordling’s presence after what I’ve heard tonight. No, I want to hear what kind of help this young fellow wants from us. Maybe then I can feel like I’m doing something to wash this, this sickening feeling from my belly.”

Already, the notion of crushing Owain Lothian’s skull between a pair of his forging hammers or even with his bare hands had flickered through the normally gentle giant’s mind, but he instantly shoved them down. Owan was a well trained and powerful knight and brute strength would never be enough to overcome him.

Moreover, if he attacked the Lothian heir, the retribution wouldn’t be confined to him alone. He might be a powerful guild master in Blackwell County, but he was still a commonor and the crime of assaulting a nobelman carried a sentance that would punish his wife and children at the same time it punished him.

The consequences were simply too great to bear, whether he succeeded or not, so he could only swallow his rage and look for a more constructive way to work against the murderous lordling.

”What I hope you can do, right now, is actually very simple,” Marcel said, clearing aside his plate filled with tiny morsels and fetching a rolled up map of Lothian March to lay out his request. ”I’ll be honest with you, you’ve arrived in Lothian March sooner than Lady Ashlynn and I expected when I helped her to deliver those letters,” he began.

”This is good because it gives us time, but also dangerous for you because you’ve arrived before she can do much to ensure your safety,” Marcel explained. ”Right now, the very best thing that you can do is to serve as a wedge between a few factions and don’t let anyone sweep you entirely into their camp.”

”No need to worry about that,” Isabell said, finally summoning enough appetite to select a small meat pie to nibble on while Marcel spoke. The buttery crust of the pastry broke into dozens of soft flakes as soon as she cut into it with a fork and the rich, earthy smell of fresh herbs and minced lamb helped to ground thoughts as she nibbled. ”We have no intention of allying ourselves closely with Owain Lothian, even before all of this. We’ve always intended to stand where Lady Ashlynn stands.”

”That’s a good notion for later, once Lady Ashlynn makes her return,” Marcel said, weighting down the corners of the map with a handful of serving utensils as he began to explain. ”Owain’s greatest support comes from the barons to the south and west,” he said, gesturing at the Hanrahan and Aleese baronies that bordered Airgead Mountain and the Southern Steppe respectively.

”He’s popular in these territories because of the victories he’s won against demons to the south, and he’s taken on retainers from both families to solidify his position with the southern barons in the west,” Marcel explained.

”So this is why he wants us going out to Hanrahan Barrony,” Tiernan said around a mouthful of roasted meat. ”He wants to butter up his allies a bit more by offering them ’fresh blood’ and the money that comes with building out our lands.”

”That’s part of it, I’m sure,” Marcel agreed. ”But there’s another problem to understand, north of the Liver Luath,” he said, tapping the map on the opposite side of the river from Hanrahan Barrony, closer to the Vale of Mists. ”The Dunn Barony has been chafing at the bit to become the Dunn County for ages and Baron Dunn has stood in opposition to Bors Lothian a number of times over the years, calling for more capable leadership against the demons,” he said.

”Recently, Loman Lothian has thrown in with Baron Dunn’s heir, Liam Dunn in a war against the villages outside the Vale of Mists,” Marcel explained, pausing to make sure both guild masters were following along before he continued. ”Loman also took in one of the knights who dumped Lady Ashlynn in a shallow grave, Sir Tommin, and inducted him into the Templars.”

”Loman Lothian intends to contend for his father’s throne,” Isabell realized. ”He’d actually leave the church for that? Why? Everything I’d heard about him said he was particularly devout. There was even a rumor some time ago that he’d been asked to take a pilgrimage to the Holy City to study under the Exemplars.”

”That may have been true once,” Marcell acknowledged. ”But things seemed to have changed for Loman after Lady Ashlynn’s ’death.’ Since he has Sir Tommin at his side, I have to assume that he knows the truth of what happened to his sister-in-law. That may make him an ally, if he’s standing in opposition to his brother Owain on some kind of principle of justice for Lady Ashlynn, but it also makes him an obstacle to her plans.”

”How so?” Tiernan asked bluntly. ”If he stops Owain from taking the throne, isn’t that a good thing? Serves the wretch right if he loses the throne for what he did,” he said.

”That might be true,” Isabell siad, pushing aside her half eaten meat pie to focus entirely on the conversation. ”But not if Lady Ashlynn wants to seize control of Lothian March. Her only claim to the throne comes from her status as Lord Owain’s legal wife. If the throne goes to Loman, then it skips around her entirely.”

Suddenly Isabell realized why Lady Ashlynn had asked her to look after her sister if she was able to. It wasn’t because Lady Ashlynn had given up on herself and was helplessly trapped, it was because she had waded so far into developing her counterattack that she was afraid her sister would suffer retribution if she failed.

But Lady Ashlynn had far too few allies to make such a move. She was walking on the edge of a knife, clinging to a marriage that some people might not even recognize in order to have claim to a throne that had passed from father to son for generations. If she was going to pull this off, then the margin for error was razor thin.

And the consequences for failure, she thought... the consequences for failure could end with all of their heads on the executioner’s block!