Family Business 29 (Patreon)

Family Business
Chapter 29

-VB-

When Duke Jorasmang-Crownguard came about, Jacques Bronzemoon didn’t know how he should behave with the young man.

Married to his twin sister and a foreigner and a magical practioner to boot, Duke Marris Jorasmang-Crownguard was the epitome of how a Demacian should not be. At the same time, Jacques had also carried out some distinctly non-Demacian decisions, some of them his and others as a reactive response to that of the aggressive Freljordians from the other side of the border.

The least he could do was give the young duke a fighting chance.

And so, that’s why he was in his manor greeting the duke instead of manning the frontlines with his soldiers.

“Welcome to the Freljord Marches, Duke Jorasmang,” he greeted the man twenty years his junior but senior as a noble.

The duke smiled. “It’s wonderful to be here, Marqus Bronzemoon! It’s not everyday that someone like me can visit the hinterlands,” he replied. “And to see my fellow Demacians at work protecting the heartland and the Great City safe and the northern barbarians at bay.”

“... I think you’re laying it down pretty thick there.”

The duke paused and then laughed.

Jacques felt himself relax.

“So how is the front?” the duke asked him, and he sighed as he led the younger man out of the lobby and towards his personal solar.

“Truthfully?”

“Truthfully.”

“It’s not good,” he sighed. “Ever since that blasted … rebel,” he carefully stated. “Broke out of the prison and the attention of the native turned to him and you, belligerent tribes to the west and north have been attacking the border towns non-stop.”

Hopefully, he could endear himself to the duke and manage himself a better post other than this frozen wasteland. Jacques had been happier as a warrior of the Demacian Army, slaughtering Noxians and earning himself lovers back in the Great city.

… Not getting his ass freeze-burned fighting Freljordian shamans launching icicles at deadly speeds at him! Or walking talking bears throwing lightning while screaming about a volleying bear! Jacques forever cursed his dead father and dead older brother for leaving him the march.

Actually, the man was known to be a hedonist. Could he provide the duke a few things special to the Marches to get on his side?

“That is indeed not good,” the duke agreed with a nod. “Is the Great City and the crown providing you with enough reinforcements?”

“They are,” Jacques admitted with a sigh. “But it almost never seems to be enough.”

“I see. If you would like, then I might find time in my schedule to plead on your behalf to the crown…”

Jacques smiled. “I would very much appreciate that,” he replied as he showed the duke his room. “I hope you’ll enjoy your stay in the march.”

“I hope so as well,” the duke laughed. “It’s not everyday that I get to see snow over where my territory is.”

-VB-

The first six days of the week came and went easily. Jacques did his best to look for what the duke might like to be gifted, but the man was rather enigmatic. Worse, because of the people’s strong conservative nature, there was very little magical artifact, bought and sold by merchants or confiscated by his authority, to offer the duke.

There were some inane talks, and Jacques found a kindred spirit in the duke; both of them liked to surround themselves with the fairer sex and partake in … extensive investigations.

Oh, the duke flaunted how he indulged in incestual taboo and married a Ionian of all people, even had a animal-feature bearing “vastayan” as his mistress. Jacques still can’t believe that the royal court hasn’t revolted against the king for allowing such an individual to rise to the rank of a duke.

Maybe it had to do with the fact that Duke Jorasmang had the support of the people because he used his magic to heal people and arrest the would be usurper.

Speaking of which…

The two of them visited the frontlines as they were with their retinues, and his retinues, a trio of magicians, helped out with the injuries incurred by the soldiers who fought off the latest tribal raid.

The soldiers, though initially wary, happily accepted the healing so that they didn’t have to spend weeks in bed.

‘I can see why people will support the duke, and if the people support the duke, then the nobles can’t act brazenly,’ Jacques thought as he watched the soldiers get up and cheer. He also would see less damages to the military budget because they managed to save money on bandages, hospital stays, and medicines.

“Tell me, marquis.”

He paused and glanced at the duke.

“Yes?”

“How would you like three magical healers to be stationed here?”

Jacques understood only after he accepted immediately.

‘A give and take,’ he thought to himself. ‘The duke expects me to support him. No one just hands over a favor like this. No doubt he’s done this to other nobles around the country.’

He led the duke away from the troops, who were happily talking with the magical healers.

“I … heard that you are an admirer of all things exotic.”

“Many, but yes,” the duke nodded, curiously obviously piqued.

“How would you like to look at our Freljordian prisoners?”

The duke paused and raised an eyebrow. “I have no interest in prisoners of war, marquis,” the young blonde man replied. He reached into his coat and brought out a corked thick glass bottle. “Slave soldiers are not good soldiers.”

“Oh no, oh no. I mean those we arrested trying to illegally trespass on our borders. Our enemies who tried to do so.”

The duke raised an eyebrow.

“Please,” Jacques smiled, realizing that he might have found something the duke might like. “Follow me.”