Mouse walked down the western corridor of the keep with Val Hector trailing slightly behind her. She was trying not to outpace the girl, but the Val’s diminutive stature meant that she naturally moved more slowly than Mouse, and besides this, her eyes were often trained on the tapestries, coats, and regalia that decorated the walls.
The Chatti delegation had already been at Kriftel just shy of a fortnight, but it seemed that they had yet to be properly received, and moreover, no one had bothered to so much as show them around the parts of the keep they would need to frequent the most. Mouse, acutely aware of the impression this must make in the wake of her recent visit to Pothes Mar, had therefore volunteered herself to call upon the Val and do what she could to make the girl feel welcome.
“This is where you will find many of the primary offices,” Mouse said as they passed a wing of rooms branching off to the right, “the chancellery, the petitioners’ hall and the like.” She paused to give the Val a chance to mark their present location. “Have you had any luck with the clerks?” she asked.
The Val shook her head.
“None at all,” she said. She turned her gaze to a wall hanging depicting the namesake of the coming feast and tournament.
“The Fourteen Knights of Toth,” Mouse said by way of explanation. “Those men there,” she indicated the lower left side, “are the ones who defended the city from siege—”
“—for fourteen days and fourteen nights until the dreg cakes saved them,” the Val finished for her. She smiled up at the tapestry. “That was always one of Badulf’s favorite stories to tell.”
Mouse dipped her head in recognition of the name. The last she had heard of the ambassador, he was on his third Chatti wife, but she did not think that the kind of remark that would be appropriate to bring up at present.
“I am happy to help you with the clerks, if you like,” Mouse said now as they continued their stroll down the hallway. “The administrators at Kriftel can be a bit—” She paused. “—difficult at times. But I assure you that it is nothing to do with you and everything to do with their own inclinations.”
“What do you mean?” the Val asked, looking up at Mouse questioningly.
Mouse led the Val around the corner that would take them out into the courtyard, before pausing.
“They like to be bribed,” she said. “Everyone likes to be bribed, if I’m honest, and it can be surprisingly difficult to convince anyone to do their jobs without making it worth their while, so to speak.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Unfortunately, that is simply the way it is in the capital.”
The Val’s eyebrows rose in surprise.
“I did not expect that,” she said, “and I am beginning to wonder now whether I came prepared.”
“Do not worry,” said Mouse with a smile, “money is not the only form of currency. Once you figure out what it is that you have and other people want, your life will become much simpler.”
The Val considered this for a moment.
“What about you?” she asked. “What do you have that other people want?”
Mouse laughed.
“Very little, as it turns out,” she said. “I have learned not to expect much from people.”
The Val shook her head.
“How then do you ever get anything done?”
“Most things I do myself,” Mouse said with a sigh, leading the out through one of the archways and into the open air of the courtyard. “But then, much of that is due to my position within the court. Unlike the other ladies, much of my work centers on the signing of petitions, the composition of letters, and the like, things that might otherwise be difficult to extract from the Empress herself. I suppose that is why the clerks are always happy to help me, because I make their lives easier.”
“I see,” said the Val. “It sounds as though you are kept quite busy.”
“Most days, yes,” said Mouse. “But with the tournament just around the corner, administration will come to a halt, and the only thing anyone will care about is filling their bellies and betting on whether more men die in the melee or the joust.”
Mouse now led the Val toward one of the paths that separated the courtyard into four small gardens. Most of the place was still in shade, but Mouse was able to find them a bench in the one small strip of sunlight where the sun had crested the wall.
“Normally,” she said, “this is the only place in Kriftel where it is illegal for a man to bear arms.” Her eyes followed a group of passing knights. “During tournament weeks, however, the law is suspended because it simply becomes to difficult to enforce.”
She traced the Val’s gaze out across the gardens, to the fountain that stood in the center and the terraced walkways above. It was a pleasant morning, relatively quiet, and not as cool as it might be.
“It is a vast estate,” the Val observed as the two women watched the small clusters of courtiers strolling the upper walkways. They were not usual residents, Mouse could tell; most of the nobles at Kriftel were too lazy to rise before the sun was over the walls. “May I ask how many live here?”
“That depends on the day,” Mouse replied. “But I suppose anywhere from one to several thousand, not including the servants.”
The Val’s eyebrows rose again in surprise.
“That many?” she asked.
Mouse nodded.
“The garrison alone is considerable,” she said, watching a young woman hoist herself onto the railing above and look down into the courtyard. “And unlike Lothar, who preferred an itinerant court, the Empress prefers to spend most of her time in the capital and make her court come to her.”
“Is that not dangerous?” asked the Val, just as a young man came and snatched the woman down from the ledge.
“In what way?” asked Mouse.
“I was given to believe that in the south, one of the chief ways for a ruler to maintain control of his lords was through visitation and direct oversight,” said the Val.
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Mouse smiled, surprised, though perhaps she should not be, at the Val’s understanding of how politics in “the south,” as she called it, worked.
“Generally, yes,” she said. “Someone seeking to maintain control of his ruling class would need to keep a close eye on his lords, especially the more powerful ones. But in Aros, the hierarchy of the noble class is relatively flat.”
“I see,” the Val murmured.
“And moreover,” continued Mouse, “the accumulation of lands and holdings is closely monitored through members of the judiciary dispatched for just that purpose.”
The Val wrinkled her brow at Mouse.
“How do you mean?” she asked.
“Well,” Mouse replied, “there are strict laws governing the buying and selling of, well, nearly everything. And any time more than so much as a copper coin passes hands, the crown likes to be made aware of it, not only so that they can tax it, but as a way of keeping record of who owns what and in what quantity. You see, resources are power, and as long as the crown can stay abreast of how much each person has, it can prevent any one person from amassing too great a number of resources and thereby gaining what it deems too much power.”
The Val nodded slowly.
“That is very clever,” she said.
“Indeed,” said Mouse. “The crown is never short of ways to protect its interests.”
She smiled at the Val. Though their acquaintance had only just begun, already Mouse had decided that she liked the girl. She had a clever and curious mind and did not seem want to make premature judgements or draw unnecessary conclusions. Moreover, she understood enough about Arosian culture and politics and demonstrated a clear enough eagerness to learn more that Mouse estimated she might have a fruitful career ahead of her.
Val Hector wore her hair in traditional Chatti fashion, woven into an elaborate plait which was then knotted atop her head, and was small, even for fifteen. Mouse had known from the moment she saw the girl that there was like to be no end of the remarks made about her size, for in contrast to the Val’s diminutive stature, delicacy of form was not something prized in the Arosian court. Rather, a tall, sturdy build was viewed most favorably, and women often turned to sports such as swimming or archery to strengthen their figures.
Nevertheless, Mouse thought she would be well received, given one was not predisposed to dislike her on account of her homeland. And in time, she hoped the Val would become a valuable addition to the court, and perhaps even a friend.
“Your Majesty, we have a problem.”
The Empress sat slouched in her high-backed chair at the head of the Council table, seemingly unbothered by the steward's sudden pronouncement.
“Many of the grain shipments needed for the Feast have not yet reached the capital.”
Mouse now looked up from her lap, where the Empress’s slender blue hound, Peticru, had come to rest his head in search of affection. She had hoped that her visit with Val Hector would give her the necessary alibi to miss the day's Council session, but it seemed there was some matter of import that needed to be discussed, and even she had not been permitted to forgo it.
“And I am given to believe that this is a matter of national emergency?” the Empress drawled.
“Well,” said the steward, crossing and uncrossing his legs, “there will be thousands of mouths to feed, and if we do not have the grain to mill into flour, we will not have the bread to feed them.”
“Yes,” said the Empress drily, “I do understand how a feast works. Now, are you going to tell me why the grain has not arrived, or are you going to embark on a thrilling exposition of how wheat is harvested?”
There were a few chuckles from around the long oak table, but Mouse could tell from the steward's tone that this was no laughing matter.
“Your Majesty,” said the man, “we cannot very well produce flour with grain we do not have. We are entirely dependent on the arrival of the grain shipments from the north. But more and more it is beginning to look as though they may never come.”
The Empress drew her brow together, narrowing her eyes at the steward who sat at the far end from her.
“Why?” she asked.
But the steward shook his head.
“I do not rightfully know, Your Majesty,” he said. “From what we are told, they were sent out in time enough, but—" He hesitated.
“But what?” demanded the Empress.
The steward shifted uneasily in his seat such that even Mouse became uncomfortable simply by watching him.
“It seems that a number of wagons carrying these shipments have—” He spread out his hands in gesture. “—disappeared.”
The Empress stared at the man, her face a mask of discontent.
“I beg your pardon,” she said. The steward looked around the table at the Councilors who sat watching the ordeal, as if one of them might come to his aid. But of course, none did.
“The registries of the tollmen at Kennelsbeck and those at Grundehard show a considerable disparity,” he said. “Specifically, there seems to be a much higher number of wagons bearing grain bound for the capital at Kennelsbeck than further south at Grundehard,” he said. “In other words, it seems that at somewhere between these two points, either the grain or the wagons themselves are going missing.”
The Empress considered the steward’s words a moment before speaking.
“Highwaymen?” she asked.
The steward shook his head.
“It is difficult to say, Your Majesty,” he said. “No one seems to know exactly where the shipments are going missing. There have been no allegations of highwaymen, no reports of theft or assault among those arriving at the capital.”
The Empress’s brow remained knit together. There was a growing tension in the air of the Council chamber, and Mouse felt herself inching toward the edge of her seat, her nerves turning themselves into a knot that formed in her stomach.
“How can that be?” the Empress asked, her unbroken gaze held fast upon the steward.
“Well,” the man said, his posture bearing signs of his discomfort, “it may be that there is some sort of scheme, some sort of design or—”
“Some sort of blathering fool who cannot get to the point?” snapped the Empress.
The steward’s shoulders rose and fell with a deep exhalation as he quietly collected himself to speak again.
“The stretch of road where it seems most likely that the grain shipments are disappearing falls in the jurisdiction of Sir Chelcy,” he said.
Mouse's heart lurched. She knew that name.
“Sir Chelcy,” echoed the Empress.
“A knight landed by General Ralist,” said the steward, his expression grave.
The Empress blinked in surprise for a moment before a short, cold laugh escaped her lips.
“Now, it cannot be said for certain who is responsible, Your Majesty, but—"
But everyone knows who is, thought Mouse. And indeed, it would be hard to see who else could devise such a scheme.
“He continues to provoke me,” the Empress said. “Every attempt I have made to reason with him, and yet,” she scoffed in incredulity.
“Perhaps, Your Majesty,” the steward tried, “he seeks retribution for—"
“No,” barked the Empress. “This is not retribution. What happened to Sir Hugo was retribution. This,” she shook her head, “this, I am afraid, is something else entirely.”
The whole of the was quiet as the Empress sat in contemplation; not even the steward dared to speak. Mouse sat with her hand still atop the blue hound's head, her eyes searching the grave faces of the men seated around the table. She suddenly found herself wishing that Ludger was there, but alas, the old man was not in attendance.
“His men will be barred from competing in the tournament,” said the Empress at last. “They will be turned away at the gates, and when they ask why, they will find that they no one but their master himself to blame. Let them decide for themselves how to repay him.”
“Your Majesty,” said Lord Rambert, breaking the Councilors’ silence, “I’ve no wish to contradict you, but two hundred angry men outside our gate, or worse yet, riding home to tell Ralist they’ve been turned away will hardly do anything to deescalate the situation.”
The Empress considered this a moment. Suddenly her eyes darted to Mouse, who started under the sudden attention cast in her direction.
“You say he is still receiving wine from Vejle,” she said.
“Ye—yes, Your Majesty,” Mouse stammered, trying to find her voice. “I made no immediate observation, that is, I did not see the casks myself, but I do believe—"
“Find his supplier and seize all shipments,” said the Empress, her eyes returned to her Council. “And after that, go to his estate and raid his stores. I want every cask of wine he has, not just that from Vejle. And you can take what grain he has while you are there.”
“Your Majesty?” said the steward, his expression one of confusion.
“We are going to fill the conduits with wine,” the Empress said, “for the duration of the Feast. And Lord Ralist is going to pay for it.”
Murmurs went up around the table, but only Lord Eadic had the courage to address the Empress outright.
“An elegant resolution, Your Majesty,” crooned the hook-nosed Councilor, bowing across the table. "After all, the crown must protect its interests."
The Empress’s mouth curled into a smile, just as Mouse felt the knot in her stomach begin to twist itself even tighter.
“My dear Councilor,” the Empress said, “this is not a resolution. This is only the beginning.”
Chapter changes and summaries.
Chapter 30: After speaking with Sir Hugo, Mouse returns to her room where she is intercepted by a page and called upon to dine with General Ralist. Mouse prepares herself for the ordeal by recalling to mind the words of the Foilunder: "The jewel of Aros is forged with strength, and no man is her equal."
Chapter 31: The supper to which Mouse is invited (previously alone with Sir Conrad) is attended by General Ralist, Sir Conrad, Lord Batton & Sir Chelcy, the latter of whom are friends of the General. Throughout the course of the supper, the General demonstrates exceedingly rude behavior and expresses a clear dislike of his ward, Lady Signy. Mouse tries to calm her agitated nerves with wine but finds herself growing increasingly irritated. Eventually, she becomes so angry with the General's belligerence that lashes out, accusing him of siphoning men from the Empress’s service despite having little evidence to back this claim. The General appears uneasy, signaling his guilt to Mouse, but responds in kind by demanding to know when those soldiers and laborers he sent as part of the efforts to help rebuild the Chatti lands will be returned. Mouse is flustered by this question and makes a quick escape. Following the supper, Sir Conrad asks to speak to Mouse alone.
Chapter 32: Mouse breakfasts with the General's children. She wallows in regret over her behavior the night before, admonishing herself for allowing herself to be provoked to anger. She realizes that it is now crucial that she finds evidence for her accusation against the General. Maria, the General's third eldest, demonstrates the children's immediate fondness for Mouse by reciting for her one of her favorite tomes. During the breakfast, the reason for Sir Conrad's interview with Mouse the night was before was to discuss the future of little Leopold, the General's second eldest son. During the course of the joust that afternoon, Mouse decides that she will charge Cedric with investigating "the case of the Empress's missing knights." Attended by Sir Conrad, Mouse sees a striking familiarity in his features that leads her to suspect the reason he has such an interest in the General's son, Leopold.
Chapter 33: At banquet, Mouse reflects on the Empress's economic contributions to the Empire, resentful that men like Ralist seek only to discredit her on account of her being a woman. She exchanges small talk with Lord Batton, who seems little influenced by the General's opinion of the Empress. Mouse has been corresponding with the Empress by letter. She is told that she is not to leave Pothes Mar until all the men formerly in the Empress's service have been assembled. She is also told to bring back Bertram, the General's eldest son and heir, to the capital, as a "hostage" to ensure his father's good behavior. Lastly, the correspondence informs Mouse that she was not the intended recipient of the letter reading "Adalbert's scythe, Yndis vale," leaving her to wonder if the letter was delivered by mistake, or was perhaps sent with the design of being intercepted. After supper, Mouse is taken by the children to see a puppet show that tells the story of Sir Sigfrid and King Ceadda.
Chapter 34: Mouse prepares to leave Pothes Mar. She feels she has achieved a certain degree of success, having gather some fifty of the Empress's missing knights. However, she still feels ashamed of the way she acted toward the General and is eager to leave. She decides that upon her return to the capital, she will tell Ludger she wants to keep living her life the way she always has, as lady-in-waiting to the Empress, and nothing more. Agatha appears and declares that she is going to run away and marry Sir Frederick, a scheme which Mouse is determined to dissuade her from. At a grand banquet, Mouse says her goodbyes to Sir Conrad and Lord Batton. On her way back to her rooms, she is given a vial of nightshade, a beauty tincture gifted her by Lady Signy. Mouse has an uneasy sleep that night, and when she wakes, the floors of her room are covered in white mallows.
