015 To deal with a Devil

{Excerpt}

The Band of the Six was the most influential and decisive spiritual force in the history of Udoris, at least until the advent of the great war.

Alone, it was the most significant religious body to exist before the war. Tracing its history several centuries back, witnessing the birth and collapse of numerous kingdoms and empires, it is recognised as the oldest continuing absolute monarchy in the ancient world.

Incontestable statistical and historical facts suggest that some understanding of the religion of the Six—its history, its institutional structure, its beliefs and practices, and its place in the world—is an indispensable component of cultural literacy, regardless of how one may individually answer the ultimate questions of life, death and faith. Without a grasp of what the religion of the Six was, it is difficult to make historical sense of Udoris. How did the Great war result in the schism of the Udorian states? Was the collapse of The Church's absolute Monarchy inevitable? Conversely, such questions are essential to the definition of the Band of the Six itself. Like any intricate and ancient phenomenon, The Band of the Six can be described and interpreted from a variety of perspectives and by several methodologies. Thus the Band itself is a complex institution, for which the usual diagram of a pyramid, extending from the Grand at the apex to the believers in the Laity, is vastly oversimplified. Nevertheless, a historical approach is especially appropriate to this task. Not only because almost a millennia of history is represented in the Band, but also because the hypothesis of its continuity with the past, and the divine truth embodied in that continuity, are central to the church's understanding of itself and essential to the justification of its authority.

…

- Excerpt from Jonas Diane's fourth book on Udorian powers- 'Religious Fallacies'

{END}

21.02.1624

Mallowston.

JOSH at long last returned to Mallowston Keep, sadly not in a way he ever expected he would. As one would a base criminal, the count was bound at the wrist and neck by a length of grimy flaxen cord and dragged along the cobblestone path towards the fort's entrance. His clothes were filthy, and his hair was matted with mud and detritus. Uncaring towards the lord's haggard state, his captors—von Grifenburg bannermen, he realised a while after he was captured—callously yanked him forward even as he nearly tripped on his own feet.

Starved and fatigued, Josh stumbled past the fort's portcullis into the bailey within. From the corner of his eyes, he spied a few of his former servants and maids peeking at him; some gazes were indignant at the sight of him being treated so. Some were simply curious, others pitying.

Some even went as far as to be condescending; a hint of mirth and schadenfreude beneath all that emotion.

The count cared little for that though. Even the sight of one of his former bannermen looking away in self-loathing upon meeting his gaze failed to elicit any significant response from the Hera patriarch. Inwardly, he knew he felt some anger at it all. At the apparent betrayals. At the walk of shame, his captors forced on him. He felt some confusion still. Some despair at the thought of what could have befallen his family. But above all, he felt a bone-deep sensation of exhaustion. A certain hollowness persisted in his heart.

The count was marched straight up the keep's flight of stairs towards his study—former study. At the centre of what used to be his private retreat from the bustle of life as lord of Mallowston stood a large oak desk, adorned with brass fixtures and covered with piles of papers and books. A quill pen and inkwell sat to one side, and a magnifying glass and his favourite pair of spectacles lay on the other. The walls were lined with shelves upon shelves of leather-bound tomes and manuscripts. The air was thick with the scent of parchment and ink, and the room was illuminated by the soft glow of sunlight leaking in from the ivy-framed windows.

Behind the desk stood a high-backed chair, cushioned with soft velvet, and at the chair's feet was a thick rug of wool and fur. A nearby fireplace crackled and popped, casting a warm glow over the room and taking the edge off the early-spring chill of the stone walls.

On the walls hung various maps, charts, and diagrams, some illuminated with gold and coloured ink, while others were faded and yellowed with age. In one corner of the room stood a wooden book stand, holding a massive, leather-bound tome that was too large to fit on any of the shelves. A faint scent of lavender and sandalwood hung in the air, emanating from a bowl of potpourri on a nearby table. A few comfortable chairs were scattered throughout the room, as though inviting visitors to relax and peruse the volumes on the shelves.

The study was a room of quiet contemplation and intellectual pursuit, a place of sombre reflection. And in it sat a young man; one he was all too familiar with.

"So, it was you?" the count asked, a self-deprecating chuckle escaping his lips as he stared at Lord Aden's true-born spawn.

"Yes," the earl replied simply, his gaze mild as it rose from the tome in his hands to finally regard the count. "How have you been, Lord Josh?" the boy asked.

Josh laughed again, his gaze disbelieving. "...Terrible," he finally said. "I nearly died."

"Well, I am glad you didn't," the earl said smiling. "Although, I am a bit disappointed."

"Why? Were you expecting a more grandiose presence from a man who had been on the run for three days without food or shelter just hours prior?"

"Oh, no, please don't misunderstand," the earl said sauntering to lounge behind the desk by the window. He gestured for the count to have a seat; Josh complied. "I do not mock you. I was simply referring to our battle at the harbour."

"...That farce was no battle."

"Exactly," the earl agreed, "but my councillors promised one, hence, my disappointment."

Josh had no words to say to that. The earl noticed as he continued speaking. "Anyhow, I think what we should be talking about now is the way forward from this point onwards, or don't you agree?"

"...To be frank," Josh said, "I was fully expecting you to ransom me and my family to my sister at Norcastle… if my family is still alive, that is."

"Oh, they are," the earl said to the count's visible relief. "Gilbert has been summoned; he should be here any moment now. And as for ransoming you to Lady Elind, I think not. Do not think your house would go scot-free after attempting treason."

"...Would we be hanged?" the count asked, his dread returning in full force.

"That remains to be decided," the earl said as his gaze rose to look behind the count. "Oh, Gilbert my dear," he said, lips curled into a warm smile, "you are here. Come in, come greet your father."

Josh turned to behold his son. His face was ruddy and cheeks full, appearing to be well fed and fended for. Yet despite his healthy appearance something about his son seemed off. He looked… timider. His eyes flickered everywhere but towards the earl, skittish.

"He was at the battle, you know?" the earl said, "I had him tied to the Seabiscuit's mast just above the mainsail in hopes that if you saw him you would be more inclined to stay and fight. Apparently, that was unnecessary given how quickly you and your bannermen decided to abandon ship."

"...What have you done to my son?" the count asked, paling as Gilbert said nothing to him nor react to the von Grifenburg scion's rather audacious proclamation.

"Gilbert," the earl called with a lilt, "I told you to greet your father, did I not?"

"Y-yes, My Lord. S-sorry," the young Hera stammered before turning to face the count. "Good morning, Father."

"Don't mind him," Earl Levi said to the bewildered count. "He was annoying, tight-lipped and stubborn. It took me weeks of earnest… persuasion to make him more open to requests; albeit he is now annoyingly skittish as a consequence."

"What have you done to my son!" the count roared, livid as he rose to his feet; his stance unsteady from hunger and exhaustion. His eyes flickered with despair as a sudden realisation struck him. "And my wife and daughters?" he shouted.

"Watch your tone, Josh,' the earl said, his tone dropping into a terrifying chill. Gilbert whimpered, slinking further away from the mad earl towards a corner of the room. "I am not so uncouth as to do to the ladies what you insinuate of me. Also, I will have you remember that I could put you and the rest of your worthless family to the sword should you continue to displease me." The count's rage immediately receded at those words, the nascent flames in him snuffed out as he collapsed back into his seat.

"Calm now, are we?" the earl asked, his tone disdainful. "Now that you fully understand how out of depth you are, let us discuss the reparations my house would demand of yours for your recent misdemeanours."

"...What do you want?"

"First, I would be holding a hearing at Towleigh to prosecute the Timels for their involvement in your house's attempted rebellion; you and your son will testify against them in that hearing."

Josh's face scrunched up in confusion. "The Timels barely had a hand in this matter," he said, "I fail to see how any such accusations would hold water."

"That's for me to be concerned about, not you," the earl replied with a dismissive sniff. "Now second, you will write a letter to your sister at Norcastle informing her of your defeat at the harbour and subsequent capture, as well as, my magnanimous decision to pardon you and your family. You will make mention of your family's newfound status as indentured servants of mine. You will also invite her to send a trusted subordinate of hers to visit and verify your well-being and standard of living under my care, imploring her not to consider inciting her husband to attempt raising an army against me.

"For my third demand, you will make a public proclamation in the town's square, revoking your title as Count of Mallowston in an act of penitence for attempting to rebel against your Liege. During this proclamation, you would implore your men to discard all intentions of rebellion stating your reluctance to see the blood of more noble men shed in senseless conflict with your lord. If you do this, you and your family would be spared from the executioner's axe and be expected to serve for only ten years in servitude to me. During the indenture period, you would not be paid, but would be provided with food, accommodation and clothing."

"...This seems pretty unfair, does it not?" the count spat, furious at the earl's demands.

"Do you have any choice other than death by hanging or public execution? You've lost your fief to me and have no men to offer nor threaten me with. You have nothing else to offer, Lord Josh. Either your family dies today as a noble one, or lives to see the next decade as freemen again; this is the only choice I offer you."

Despite how much Josh hated to hear this, he knew well this was indeed the case. With a sigh, he fell into deep contemplation. "...Can I make a request before agreeing to this?" he asked after a while.

"I will consider it."

"I heard you have a fiance, Viscount Lancelot's daughter?"

"Yes?"

"I want my youngest, Titi, to serve as her Lady's companion. She is but a child ignorant of the dealings of the adult world. Please, have mercy, I beg you."

The earl shook his head. "I am sorry, but no. She can serve as a Lady's maid to my beloved once she is of age, but I would not entertain the thought of the child of a traitor being selected for a position as prestigious as companion off such baseless arguments."

Josh fell silent, eyes frantic. "What about my eldest?" he offered.

"Miss Malina?" the earl asked, brows furrowed in confusion, "What about her?"

"I propose she serves as your personal maidservant," the count argued. "She is well-bred, unmarried and has thrice her mother's wits. I reckon she would make a wonderful assistant."

A light of comprehension appeared in the earl's eyes. "Still trying to claw back some power I see," he said with a sly smile, before looking away, his gaze contemplative. "...I will allow it," the earl said a few moments later, "but only after she has proven herself worthy of the post."

"Thank you," Josh breathed. A feeling of immense loss still weighed heavily on his heart, but at least there was still a smidgen of hope to be found.

"Gilbert, lead your father to the guest quarters," the earl said with a smile. "I believe your mother and sisters would be elated to see him."

"Y-yes, My Lord."