Rough winds peppered the windows with drizzle, firepce crag. Opposite her sat a man a good bit older than herself. His hair saw its first touches of grey, the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth lingering after he finished smiling. However, he carried within himself a strength, a feeling of being greater than the straints of a body which, while still in good dition, would only bee a burden as the years tinued.

  Oher side of the room, her knight happily chatted with her guest’s wife. This was not a particurly delicate affair and, while some privacy referred, it was not essential.

  Rather, this arra served her well for it emphasised this was a discussion of status.

  “Before we begin, my dolences, Lord Sstein. I greatly admired the te Lord’s vigour and passion for fn artwork,” she said, a solemo her voice that found support in the dull outfit she wore, the only hint of colour the subtle blue of a rosemary flower pio her chest.

  While he had posed himself to a first, her words had him sed-guess, gaze flickering down a moment. “My Lady is aware of his passion?” he asked.

  A guarded voilike his father’s, for it seemed that apples either fell straight down or rolled far away, at least in her experience.

  She put on a small smile. “While I looked for a suitable pce to race horses, it was him who offered that nd. He saw the value of encing his peers to hoheir knightly skills and virtues. Whenever I would visit to oversee the stru, he made sure I had a suitable pce to stay. While I am certainly not pining, far from it, I oftehat he simply wished for pany to show off his little colles.”

  Her voice thus far had beele, yet empty, words spoken not simply without emotion, but as if speaking them drained her of emotions. However, this ged as she tinued with a small joy ione.

  “I recall his favourite to be a Persian carpet that bears his coat of arms, made in Isfahan no less, which he had sent payment for many years before it finally arrived. Oh how he thought he had been ed, so much so that he swore he would have challehe merts to a duel if not for My Lord’s mother calming him down. O arrived, though, he fell in love, from then on pig up what artwork and tris he could from the region.”

  He listened with a growing smile that didn’t quite reach his lips; however, it touched his voice. “My Lady is mistaken.”

  “I am?” she asked, tilting her head. “Pray do enlighten me.”

  “My father wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but the lion faces the wrong way,” he whispered.

  For a moment, she looked in thought, then broke into a silent chuckle and brought up her handkerchief iher hand to dab at the er of her eye. “I did find the arra unusual. To think the te Lord had such a trick up his sleeve, that he would have his guests view it in a mirror to better preserve it….”

  Siletled, the creak of wood, the quiet chatter oher side of the room, the crackle of a mild fire and drumming of light rain.

  “If My Lord wishes, we may certainly spend the day reminisg. I do expect My Lord has other pns, though, so perhaps I should not keep him,” she said.

  He sobered at her words, not that he had shown aion before. Still, whatever softness had touched his voice, there was now none. “My thanks to My Lady for being uanding.”

  her rushing ning it out, she picked up her cup and took a sip of tea. After pg it back down, she drew in a breath, only then speaking. “I do hope My Lord returns that uanding as I would not be careless in my duties as liege-lord. To begin with, the arra between the t of Augstadt and the Baron of Sstein has been that, in lieu of taxes, the Baron should keep the castle in good order and maintain a suitable garrison. That and all hts and obligations are detailed in this dot.”

  Upon saying that, she pushed over a stack of vellum, the fine part thihe stao shorter for it.

  “My Lord may read over that at leisure, no need fency,” she said.

  Still, he lifted the first page and gnced over it: words upon words and most of them simply detailed the history betweewo families. Such a dot was, after all, a work of art in its ht.

  Just as he readied to speak, she tinued.

  “However, I would ask My Lord to refrain from signing it.”

  After a moment, he pced the page back down, then raised his gaze to her.

  Several factors pulled at the tension now between them, no longer blurred by the pleasant versation of before. This was once again an older man before a young woman, a vassal before his lord, and everything that stemmed from those matters.

  “Is there something wrong with the tract?” he asked, stoic, yet it was as if he’d swelled, sitting that little taller, broader, his arms ing to rest oable that bit closer to her.

  Whereas she showed no difference, the same, small smile she always did. “It is in substance identical to the tract between our fathers, as well as to the tract between myself and My Lord’s father, so no, there is nothing wrong with it.”

  “Then why would My Lady not wish for it to be signed?”

  His eyes held an edge that she had never seen in his father’s, yet she was sure his father had been capable. Age, like a stream, had a way of rounding off even the roughest rocks, but rocks they still were.

  However, his father was not the one opposite her nople who had rolled far from the tree. Yet, no matter how far an apple rolled, it was still an apple.

  “Whehere is a group of people, they invariably choose a leader. Whether that is a family under a father, a tribe under a chief, or even the history of our Empire’s kingdoms. They look among themselves and choose someone whose judgement they trust. Iurn, that leader promises to lead with wisdom and passion.”

  She spoke slowly, carefully, aware of his displeasure at her poetic meandering, keenly aware he dared not interrupt her.

  “My Lord, this tract is exactly that: a tract. It is not the retionship between a vassal and liege. Across our realm, I see a simir ge. A distrust. That is not to say I necessarily disagree, though. These are not the days of old where one has a choice of liege nor that our titles are reition of our service.”

  In those words, he found some i. “My Lady surely is speaking of… strahings,” he said, soundiher chiding nor curious.

  However, she knew well these little games. For people like him and herself, it was important to know how to say things without saying them—how to let people hear what they wao hear. The less the other khe stronger one’s position.

  It recisely because she khese rules so well that she knew how best to break them.

  “If My Lord signs the tract, then nothing shall ge. Matters will tiween our titles as they did before. However, if you’re willing to trust in my leadership, I shall be a liege worth trusting.”

  A pause, then he chuckled, l his head with a gentle shake. “Really, My Lady make such a promise?”

  She did not reply so that, eventually, he had to raise his head once more a her gaze. ion flickered across her face, only a small smile upon her lips.

  “When my mother passed, my father gathered what talented midwives and doctors he could to share their knowledge. One such doctor questioned why he should divulge his secrets to his petitors….”

  She had spoken in aone, dry, yet her gaze dared him to look away.

  A dare he did not fulfil. “Pray tell, how did Lord Augstadt answer?”

  “What good does a dead mother do for anyone?” she said, her toill even.

  He sidered it for a moment before she then tinued.

  “My father did much good for the city. However, he was not perfect.”

  He couldn’t keep himself from asking, “Why does My Lady say that?”

  Her lips quirked and he found cause to look away, theantly looked back at her.

  “That is, if he had lived longer, perhaps I would not say such a thing. As it is, he had an intense focus oy while ing those others he owed his attention. One of my first uakings was to have mills built ay holdings for the peasants.”

  Although not a question, he found himself again under her gaze that seemed to pull the words out of his throat. “My Lady is certainly charitable.”

  “Charity has little to do with it,” she said, brushing aside the pliment with a flick of her wrist. “I charge a small fee to use the mills, whiecessitates the peasants bringing produarket. That produce supports carpenters and bcksmiths and cobblers. Upon seeing what else there is to purchase, the peasants end up bringing more produce to sell.

  “That is where my father erred when he relied on merts. The city prospers, but it is not our people who be; when our people prosper, we be. That is our role—our duty as leaders. The people entrust us with their ho work that we put it to the best use for the betterment of everyoo that end, it is necessary that eople of dedication and learning, which we foster in our heirs that they may, in turn, bee wise leaders.”

  He sat opposite her, his expression bnk, a even that said so much to her. A plicit silence. Her thoughts became all the more sure once he replied, “My Lady certainly has an iing… philosophy.”

  While her small smile remained unged, it now reached her eyes, pihem, then even her small smile melted away and voice became quiet. “I ot know what my father would have done, or ns he had to begin with. However, I would like to think that, if ly correct, I do have some notion of what he had intended….”

  “Please, do share, My Lady,” he said.

  Words not drawn out by her expet gaze this time, that gaze of hers now fixed to a spot in the middle of the table. It remaihere as she answered. “My grandfather was a kind man, whiy father and I have beed greatly from. Many people, great and small, have returned his kio us in ways that ot be measured.

  “That kindness, though, did not e cheap. My father believed in risks because he was fident in his own abilities. So, I believe, he inte in the Nelli family to revitalise the city, then banish them. My father had a close retionship with the te Lr and I do guess that the twed for the grain tariff to weaken the Nelli family’s position.”

  A sed passed, then she covered her mouth as a titter rang out.

  “Like father, like daughter,” she whispered, perhaps loud enough to reach her guest, perhaps nardless, she raised her head once more auro her polite smile. “If My Lord would indulge This Lady with an assurance of secrecy….”

  She waited for his slight nod before tinuing.

  “I holy believe that he died because he fell in love,” she whispered. “I believe his feelings for my mother deyed his pns and, ultimately, the Nelli family acted first.”

  Although not what one would call animated before, her words utterly stilled him. “My Lady would not jest?”

  She opened her hands, smile ironic. “It is that the Nelli family have a certain rea Italy. If they sidered my father a threat and knew of his capabilities, to me, it is a reasonable clusion. However, what evidence could remain after all this time? No serious iigation was made at the time either.”

  What her voice didn’t betray, her hands did, csped together so tight.

  “The same Nelli family my dy now does business with?” he said, her chiding nor curious, but questioning all the same.

  That question broke the tension in her hands and she let out a gentle breath as her hands returo her p. “Indeed, I am fident in my abilities. By pivoting them towards fine cloth, their caravans have steadily brought less grain, and pushing the sale of that cloth through the textile guild has kept the workers pensated. A perfect solution for everyone.”

  “My Lady is most wise,” he said, soundiher sarcastior patronising.

  Of course, she heard what he didn’t o say. “Whether or not I am wise will be left for future geions to decide. For this geion, all I need know is whether I am trusted.”

  Punctuating that, she pushed the stack of pages closer still to him.

  “My builders are experienow. I wonder, what does My Lord desire?” she asked, her head tilting to the side, brow furrowed, and lips pursed. “Of course, My Lord’s grandsons are young. In some years, they would be served well by an academy, would they not? Somewhere that boys be boys, yet still taught proper discipline.”

  He let out a sie of ughter. “Well, My Lady certainly knows how to sweeten a deal.”

  Her smile soured and she once again brushed aside his pliment. “Whether or not My Lord signs that dot, this will be done. For what reason would I not want My Lord’s family to be full of capable people? I would love nothing more than to have a vast pool of talented people to whom I may seek advi any and every topic. Perhaps, iy years, little Reginald would be my architect, helping to design a cathedral that would make every bishop outside of Rome envious.”

  This time, her casual brush of familiarity did not have him sed-guessing. However, it did bring flickers of memories to mind, zy afternoons watg his grandsons py together—one building a castle out of firewood for his carved-and-painted knights.

  A brief versation had covered such a vast distanot exactly tiring, but he had grasped this iion of hers. As if far away, even her most eous statements now seemed small. Not to mention that she rarely dwelled on them. No, what she dwelled on were her own praises, at times humble, other times boastful.

  Someone who said a lot a said so little a left a sting impression.

  How often he’d heard his father praise her, thinking him gullible. He uood now. Not that he agreed, but he uood that this was the kind of woman his father would praise. A woman like his mother. Someone who kheir limits—and decided they knew better.

  From those thoughts of his, she yanked him out with a single sentence: “Ohing I did find sad, My Lord’s father wouldn’t talk of My Lord’s brother.”

  After a moment, he softly said, “Is that so?”

  “I uand it is a difficult subject for a parent to discuss; however, I would like to know more about him if My Lord is willing. I mean that truly, knowing it is not my pce t pain.”

  “Pain…” he whispered, his lips curling into a bittersweet smile. “My Lady knows it is painful and would still ask.”

  “The pain shows us how much they meant to us. Even now, I feel the ache of losing my father, as if he took a piee with him. I hope he did, that we are still together in some way.”

  He let out a trickle of chuckles, his hand ing to cover his mouth a moment, only to then fall back down as the trickle dried up. “My Lady knows how to oetically.”

  “This Lady, despite how much she has spoken thus far, does also know how to listen if there is anything My Lord wishes to share,” she replied, her voice gentle—inviting.

  At first, he simply breathed. After a few seds, he picked up the gss of brandy and took a sip, then spoke in a soft and clear voice. “My brother… was a brilliant child. Even as his older brother, I could not keep up. Everyone loved him. Oh how I hated him, hated losing to him, hated how much everyone else loved him. Yet I loved him the most. So yes, his death has always been painful to us all. My mother… always said… that God needed him. However… we needed him too. We still do.”

  True to her word, she listened, attentive, expression the perfect bance of sympathy that it was her too muor too little. He could have ughed if not for the knot in his stomach.

  “What does My Lady wish to hear about?” he asked, knowing she would ask about his death, already seeing fshes of memory—of the water, of his brother’s st smile, of those cursed words that had haunted him all these years—

  “I uand he liked reading. Does My Lord happen to remember which books or authors he particurly liked?” she asked.

  There was no sense of ambiguity to her words, no underlying agenda, not a question that asked something without asking it, that said something without saying it. It felt to him a curiosity carefully shaped to be courteous.

  As if she truly only wished to know more about this person, nothing more.

  “Marcus Aurelius. He had a fasation with the ‘good emperors’ of A Rome, so, when our father heard a manuscript by one of those emperors was to be printed, he made sure to buy two.”

  “Two?” she quietly asked.

  A smile tugged at the er of his mouth. “One for my brother, and one for me. Not that I read it at that age,” he said, his hauring to the side.

  “At what age did My Lord read it?” she asked.

  “At the age I was the day after my brother died.”

  She ined her head, saying nothing more on it, and moved on. “While I did find his work fasating, I did also find it g in one area.”

  “Which area would that be?” he asked, a touch of forced humour to his voice.

  “Just as we may strive to withhold from reag to those things which would harm us, so too may we strive to indulge in the joys life brings us which would nurture us.”

  A silent chuckle fell from his lips. “Perhaps My Lady is right,” he said softly. “I have taken many of his lessons to heart, yet find it to be… awfully cold.”

  “As if a person should exist in isotion and any interruption to that is necessarily something to be resisted.”

  He nodded along, by the end showing a small smile. “My Lady has put to words what I have struggled to vey so long.”

  So the versatio, tinuing to say a lot while saying nothing, and leaving behind a sting impression.