Nero Walker, Book 2 Ch.21 (53) (Patreon)

Lord Hobbs was wringing his hands in worry. He knew that this meeting was not going to be good. Although his plan had been flawless, the assassin failed, and ultimately the plan had failed. Instead of causing the mage council to lose face, his plan resulted in an even bigger insult to House Cranston.

Pacing back and forth in the waiting room, he tried to find the words that would blunt Lord Cranston’s anger. The tastefully decorated room demonstrated the owner’s wealth and power to those using it to wait for an audience. It hadn't been that long ago that Lord Hobbs was in this room hoping that Lord Cranston would consider implementing his proposal. Considering the outcome, he wished he had been less persuasive.

The door opened, and Lord Cranston’s aide said in a cold voice, “Lord Cranston will see you now.”

Scurrying behind the aide, Lord Hobbs tried to straighten his robes. Taking deep breaths to calm himself down, he prepared for the verbal battle. It was imperative that the proper people were blamed. His house could not afford to offend House Cranston.

Walking into the office, Lord Hobbs saw Lord Cranston sitting behind his desk. Cranston’s face was stoic, like always, and he was writing something. Rather than interrupt, Lord Hobbs waited patiently for Cranston to finish.

Without looking up, Cranston set the page he finished off to the side, and spoke while capping his pen.

“Lord Hobbs, I’d say that your plan didn’t live up to all that it promised,” Cranston’s voice was cold enough to crack steel.

Forcing his hands to stillness, Lord Hobbs responded, “My plan was perfect. The council’s ‘curiosity’ was forced to fight just like I predicted. The failure was with the assassin. All I offered was a method to get the boy into the ring. I delivered as promised.”

Lord Cranston stared at Lord Hobbs and the silence filled the room. Unable to stand the tension, Lord Hobbs broke.

“Everything was legal. Neither the crown nor the mage council can do anything in retaliation. House Cranston is safe,” Hobbs said hurriedly.

Like a blade being drawn, Cranston hissed, “Safe?”

Standing up, Lord Cranston placed his hands on his desk and leaned over. He loomed large in the room, and Hobbs seemed to shrivel.

While Lord Cranston’s face was still stoic, his anger was clear in his voice. “House Cranston was slighted in front of the entire court. You offered an opportunity to spit in the eye of the council of mages along with the crown. The plan was meant to show everyone that House Cranston would not be bullied. You promised a completely legal way to kill a new noble who has been a source of amusement for those ridiculous mages. They killed a Cranston, and in response I’d kill their toy. Now their toy lives, and I have to give my son’s inheritance to it. Am I misunderstanding the situation? If so, please enlighten me,” he ordered.

Fear evident in his eyes, Hobbs replied, “That’s a simplistic evaluation. Even with the plan failing to meet expectations, the outcome was still positive. Both the crown and the mage council have seen the mettle of House Cranston. They know that they will suffer in response to any slights. An assassin was successfully sent against someone under their protection, and they could do nothing to stop him. As for the money, the Assassin’s Guild owes you what you already paid for their failure. They can’t complete the contract, so they’re liable. As for your son’s inheritance, he wasn’t your heir. How large could it be?”

The tension in Lord Cranston’s eyes seemed to loosen as Hobbs spoke. However, when the subject of the inheritance was brought up, his eyes narrowed in fury.

Lord Cranston roared, “Silas wasn’t my heir. That’s true. However he was away from Hennings. Safe from the plots and intrigues of court, or so I thought. I was using him as a holding house for several businesses and accounts. While they were tied to his inheritance, I could pit my true heirs into a healthy competition. On paper, he would have received around 50 million in assets and common valens. Do you think that amount is large enough to merit some anger at its loss?”

Paling, Lord Hobbs was unable to come up with a reply. He just stood there with his mouth open. Silas Cranston, Lord Cranston’s mage-adept son, was an idiot. Everyone knew that. How on earth did Lord Cranston think it was a good idea to leave him anything? Even if it was some plot for inner house politics, that was insanity.

Lord Cranston said, “You are going to do whatever you have to do in order to hide the true value of the inheritance. I’m not handing over that kind of money to some no-name child in the middle of nowhere. Do you hear me?”

Stuttering in response, Hobbs said, “But… I’m sure the king already knows. He made a special point to say that the Tower of Law would be observed while they handle the audit. There is nothing I can do.”

“You can’t do anything? I recommend you think hard, and offer a solution,” Cranston said quietly.

Lord Hobbs started wringing his hands together, thinking furiously. “Maybe we could kill the boy to buy some more time. Petition the Assassin’s guild to try again. If he’s dead before the audit finishes, perhaps the ruling could be contested,” he said in panic.

Slamming his palm on the table, Lord Cranston’s stoic mask cracked and the fury it contained was unleashed. “That boy was the only one in this whole game who played to win! Do you know what he did at the arena? He bet his entire winnings from the noble war that earned him his title. He fought for his life, and broke the arena’s bank. The city lord of Dorchester banished her son so she could distance herself from the plot. This Lord Walker was a piece who stole the board. The insult I suffered wasn’t from the boy, but from the crown and the mage council who killed a son of Cranston under false pretenses. I’d rather find a daughter of Cranston to tie that boy to my house than kill him. He was brilliant, vindictive, and ruthless. How would you describe your playing during this game?”

Lord Hobbs was at a loss. But luckily, a thought came to him like dawn breaking over a mountain to burn off the fog.

“My playing was perfection. I provided the strategy that delivered my promise. The assassin piece failed. Forgive me for asking, but if you were aware of the plan, how could you leave that much money tied to your son's inheritance? Had you altered the books before you registered the assassination paperwork, this wouldn't be an issue. Yet, you offered a piece on the board that the strategy didn’t take into consideration. The loss of funds for the plan was given at the start. I estimated that a dishonored son of Cranston would only merit an inheritance of half a million, and that’s what I budgeted for the assassination. You would have lost that money either way, and the goal of returning the slight would have been achieved. Regardless of whether or not the assassin succeeded,” Hobbs said with all the conviction he could muster.

Lord Cranston leaned back and crossed his arms. After a moment, he walked to the wet bar and poured himself a drink as he thought over what Lord Hobbs had just said. This time the silence in the room was contemplative, and Lord Hobbs inwardly smiled at the ray of hope.

Sighing, Lord Cranston said, “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. You played well. The plans outcome was not your fault. The Assassins Guild and I are to blame for the plan’s failure to achieve the desired outcome. They didn’t study their target well enough, and I didn’t plan a retreat. Now, go and do you as were bid. Be sure to audit the accounts accurately. This game was my loss. It’s time to retire it, and start a new game. There are many fronts, and pouring resources into a loss is just compounding failure. Thank you for your service.”

Lord Hobbs offered a deep bow and practically ran from the room.

Sipping his drink, Lord Cranston looked out his office windows. The city loomed large in the distance from his mountain estate. So many plots and plans were being played out among the towers. He would have to be more mindful. Mistakes like these could doom his house. This entire plan had been a lark. The loss was great, but the lesson was a powerful conciliation prize.

And now he could see why the mages were entranced with the boy. Lord Walker was someone to watch. Perhaps the idea of tying House Walker to House Cranston through marriage actually had some merit.

-----

Nero was in a training room under the keep, playing with some spells. The cleaning spell Vera had shown him last night had opened up a lot of possibilities. If he could cast spells that pulled their own essence without him having to manipulate it, then memorizing spell-forms was a viable method to growing his repertoire.

While sitting in the middle of the training area, Nero was holding a book in one hand and using his other to focus his center into a spell-form. Although casting with his hands wasn’t really necessary, it was much easier to manipulate his psychic field with a tactile medium. Rather than stamping the spell form, Nero was etching, or carving it into the air. He could feel his connection to the floating symbol. The separate sections of the spell were obvious to him, even though he didn’t know what they did exactly.

Completed, the spell-form solidified and started pulling on the essence in the room. Nero watched, while attempting to slow the pull down in order to make sure he saw exactly what was happening. In the center of the spell form, a thin needle took shape. The stone seemed to grow over several seconds until it resembled a spike. Feeling it was ready, he activated the firing mechanism. The spike shot out like a paintball. It wasn’t as fast as a gun, but it still flew straight and true. It slammed into the chest of the target dummy and broke into chips of rock and dust. Nero watched as the coalesced essence returned to the ether like smoke.

With a smile on his face, he closed his book and stood up. ‘Magic is too freaking cool,’ he thought in wonder.

Focusing, he repeated the spell-form over and over again. Rather than fire another spike, he just recycled his essence and kept copying the spell form until he could recognize it on site. Time didn’t seem to pass as he was focused too intently on his training.

“Are you about finished?” he heard from behind him.

Flubbing his cast, he saw the spell-form shudder and crack. The essence he had been using from his center floated away, now out of his control. The feeling reminded him of breaking his phone, or losing his keys. It was surprising. He had read that essence loss from a poor cast was distracting, but the feeling of regret was more profound than he had imagined it would be. With a grimace, he got himself under control and turned around.

Vera was standing there with a concerned look on her face. “Are you alright?” she asked.

Nero nodded, “Yeah, I just had my first experience with ‘essence loss’ from a miscast. That really sucks. I didn’t understand when I read about it, but I get it now.”

Vera smiled and replied, “Yes, it is unpleasant. But, you’ll get used to it. In fact, training to not let it distract you is important. Do it before you go to sleep, you recover center faster when you sleep. But remember, never drop below 50%. Even if you don’t feel the effects of center depletion, it’s still not a good idea to be unprepared.”

Nodding at the good advice, Nero said, “Will do. But why are you here? Is the noble meeting over?”

“Yes, court is dismissed for the moment. We have a meeting with Lords Cosgrave and Bennings, along with General Branson. The topic of discussion will be your trials. You ready to go?” she asked.

“Let me grab my stuff real quick,” he said.

After collecting his books, Nero made sure to grab the pot of coffee along with the mug he had stolen on his way to the training room. Vera gave him an annoyed look that he just returned with a shrug and a grin. Soon enough, they were heading out.

When Nero and Vera left the training room, they saw Arch-mage Jennings standing in the hallway. He was wearing a smile, and had a mug in his hand. Vera just offered a nod in greeting and kept walking. Nero followed and offered Jennings a shrug.

The arch-mage didn’t seem insulted and quick stepped to catch up. He held up his empty mug to Nero as they walked.

“You mind topping me off. They have great coffee here. It’s actually imported from the Westerly Lands. You wouldn’t believe how expensive this stuff is in the capital,” Jennings said as though it wasn’t strange that he’d just shown up.

Vera ignored him, but Nero smiled and poured the man some coffee.

“Were you waiting for us?” Nero asked.

Jennings took a sip and smacked his lips in delight. “I was in the area. I figured I’d see what you were up to. I hope you don’t mind, but I was watching you practicing your spell work,” he said as if he was testing the waters.

Nero chuckled and said, “I’ve already figured out that you were one of the peeping tom’s from the capital. Populator Serenity mentioned you.”

“Charity,” Jennings corrected.

“Ha!” said Nero. “I knew it. Anyway, thanks for the books.”

Shaking his head in amusement, Jennings said, “Very clever Nero. And I’m glad the books are appreciated. It seems they might be of a little more use than I anticipated.”

Nero narrowed his eyes and replied, “What does that mean? What do you know that I don’t?”

Vera interrupted the two’s verbal spar and said, “We’re here.”

Opening the doors, She led them into a large conference room containing several people Nero recognized along with some he didn’t.

As they went to take their seats, Jennings answered Nero’s question with a grin, “I know many things that you do not, young Nero.”