The Black Rook by Davey Cobb

Author:Davey Cobb [Cobb, Davey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781928094883
Publisher: DAOwen Publications

Vodka and Mead

His name was Hanzus of the House of Irvaye, but the people called him the Baron Without Sorrow. A man of iron will and unyielding resolve. A man who’d overseen torture and ordered hundreds of executions. A man who could fight a pack of wild Dogmen without breaking a sweat. A warrior. A diplomat. One of the most powerful and feared men in the whole of Gadensland.

And yet, the man had unravelled in front of his entire court, his thick armour penetrated for all to see, revealing weakness, brittleness.

The Baron of the Krämise had refused to take any further part in his own festival, his own celebration of the Goddess. The courtiers would celebrate Harvest without their liege lord. And they were already whispering.

“Baron don’t care about Harvest,” the Baroness’s lawyer, Marc Kest declared to all the stewards. “Baron don’t care about his people.”

“The night is ruined,” Edvard Linn groaned. “What will folk be murmuring on the morrow? Imagine what the papers will say.”

“You speak out of turn,” Edgar Vassel grumbled at them. “Do not forget what house you serve, gentlemen.”

Barrett and Reymond escaped from the squabbling stewards as they all left the feast, slipping into a commoner’s ale tent situated close to the Balenmanor. The other stewards chose to follow the Baroness and her courtiers to the dance pavilion, where they would watch knights and aldermen dance as they sipped their wine and politely discussed the downfall of the kingdom. Barrett decided sharing ale with peasants was a far more interesting prospect than watching Alderman Karston’s belly bouncing as he danced with the Baroness, and Reymond needed no convincing.

“Does the Baron realise how much coin has been thrown at this night?” Reymond sighed, accepting the ale Barrett had purchased from the bar. “How much effort? Goddess, have mercy. I slaved in those stables for nothing.”

“You did what now?” Lew asked, scratching at his scalp. Lew and Cay already sat at a table when Barrett and Reymond entered the commoner’s tent. Seemingly, they too preferred cheap ale to fine wine.

“Never mind,” Reymond muttered into his cup.

Considering how rowdy the taverns and alehouses became during Harvest, this tent was perhaps the calmest drinking establishment in all of Balenmeade. The punters sipped their Kramisen and whispered amongst themselves. They were all much older than Barrett and perhaps found the intense merrymaking found in the rest of town too much to bear.

“Tis an omen,” Lew said, staring into Barrett’s eyes. “Baron’s cursed us all for the winter. To hold Harvest celebrations without the one’s baron… Lads, it don’t bode well for none of us. Soon as the Baron took his leave for the eve, the feast and dance should’ve been called off.”

“Never thought I’d see the day,” Cay concurred, wiping his lips clean. “Fancy fleeing your own feast.”

“Shouldn’t you have taken your leave also?” Reymond muttered at the valets. “You’re his attendants.”

Lew shrugged. “Far as I’m concerned, Baron retiring for the night means the lad and I are off the hook. We can do as we please, for now.

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