by BDAdmin » Thu Jul 17, 2014 9:45 am
Her subtle threat recognised; invoking the King by her relation to him, the kinship wielded as a rider wields a crop. A threat worthy of Razasan's lesser courtiers, seeking to overawe their rivals by reeling off the names of more influential relatives. The brief glance he turns to the Lady is quietly disappointed.
"Fortunate, then, that whatever favour I hold with His Majesty is by virtue of twenty-odd years of experience, Lady Verreaux, rather than lissom limbs or dashing charm. I've a while before these vigorous young bucks begin to catch up."
A small wave of his hand dismisses the matter, the threat, before he continues:
"I've given you far more time than your task has warranted, and that only because the war goes well - Meadowford by Midwinter, I am told - and my regiment has yet to be called to the front. Were it up to me this business would have been settled and my men marched into Derry a month since. I remain as a courtesy, Lady, in giving you time to make your arrangements."
As those arrangements are explained, then, the Baron listens carefully, for all that his attention seems mainly for the soldiers and masons labouring nearby. He bides his time, waiting until the proposal is fully explained, and by the time she concludes his gaze has returned to the lady's features with a look of something between disbelief and concern, though the former is quickly masked. His reply is instead level, his tone studiously patient.
"His terms would require that you write to your uncle. And though I do not presume to speak with your uncle's voice, might I hazard a guess at his likely response and save you the ink and sealing-wax? Given that His Majesty has yet to take leave of his senses."
He raises a gloved finger, his elbow moving clear of the young woman's touch in the process.
"First, who is Glenn Burnie to make these demands? What is his lineage? What land does he hold? What allies carry his banner? What armies answer to his command?" A moment for the lady to consider, but no more than a moment before Surdemer continues:
"The answer is that he is no one of import. He is a functionary, with only as much power as his fellow functionaries see fit to grant him. He holds neither land nor title, he can claim no connection to the noble houses of Trae Kelsa worth the mention. Meanwhile the closest Myrken Wood has to a military is a band of farmers and shopkeepers with clubs. Trained and drilled, yes, but not soldiers. Your estimate of how they'd fare against the Crown's forces is excessively generous."
Another finger raised.
"Second: he is insolent. He has scorned and mocked previous representatives of the Crown, and now shows only the most cursory loyalty because he no longer has Burel's coat-skirts to hide behind. That he sees his duty as an onerous burden speaks volumes as to his character. He has no respect for your uncle, the King, nor for the proud history and traditions of the name of Plaudart, nor by extension for you - and yet you would bring this opportunist into your Uncle's house? What esteem does he bring with him? What worth?"
A third finger.
"Third: he is erratic. Perhaps he has a certain charm, a certain devil-may-care recklessness which is exciting enough to turn a young lady's head. But this proposal of his - this betrothal? It is a gamble on his part, and a desperate one at that. He looks to buy himself time, a full year's stay of execution." A lift of brows at that, as if daring her to deny it. "You would do as well to tie your fortune to that of a man who wagers on dice."
A fourth.
"Fourth: what makes the people of Myrken so difficult to control, Lady Verreaux, is that they have suffered under a string of fools, and have found their own way of dealing with intolerable fools. For the Crown to set a titled lord to rule over them only invites them to rebel against that lord and the hand that put him there. They've overthrown Governors before, why not overthrow a lord? If he makes a claim by right of blood they'll just pour that blood into the gutter, and likely yours with it."
His list concluded, his hand drops to fold with the other behind his back, shoulders straightening as he looks towards the town walls as if he might spy out the troublesome Governor through stone and timber and houses and streets.
"In case I was not understood previously, let me restate the Crown's terms more clearly:
"Governor Glenn Burnie is to declare his absolute and unconditional loyalty to the Crown, in public, and denounce the traitor Burel. He is to make available to the Crown's agents a full and factual accounting of Myrken Wood's land holdings and populace. He is to enact a number of reformations to Myrken's government, in which power is divided between landowners and commoners - I can have the specifics brought to your lodgings, since he might want to look them over in detail. He is then to dissolve the Judiciary Council to make way for these changes. The Crown - which is to say I, as His Majesty's envoy - will appoint an interim government to oversee the transition."
A glance to the Kestrel to be sure that she attends, that she has heard properly.
"Kindly convey these terms to Governor Burnie with all haste. Let him understand that any refusal would best be accompanied by his resignation. Any concessions he demands are yours to fulfil, so do not promise more than you can provide. If you marry him, that is your decision; do not expect your family to bless such a union, as it offers little by way of convenience."
The Baron turns to face Lady Egris more fully, offering a respectful bow and a courteous gesture towards her restive mount.
"Don't let me delay you further."