Long Live the Emperor: Chapter 11 (Patreon)

To say Lady Mabel was flustered would be a horrible understatement. Blushing and unable to decide between turning away and covering her eyes, she sat there making noises like a fish out of water. She didn’t stop until Alvin finished pulling up his pants.

There was no good way to explain why she’d literally caught him with his pants down, so he decided to just ignore it and press on.

“Ah, Mabel! I was wondering when you’d come to see me!” Alvin said, forcing good cheer into his voice. He rubbed the wrinkles out of his shirt and turned to greet her at the door.

He held out his hand for a handshake, and Mabel looked at it with a combination of horror and fascination. Alvin was confused for a moment, but then remembered what Mabel thought she’d just caught him doing.

But before he could withdraw his offered hand, Mabel decided and took his hand in her own and gave it a firm shake.

“Baron Aldrich, I just wanted to make sure you were alright,” Mabel began. She held his hand tight, not letting go. “I admit I wanted to see how well you were holding up cooped in here like a chicken in a cage. I wanted to let you know it won’t be much longer now. My father has been busy consolidating your lands into our holdings. Apparently, you have quite a few angry freeholders and burghers scattered throughout your countryside. They’ve gotten rather used to not paying any tithe to their lord and were rather frustrated when my father’s men came to inform them of the change in management.”

“No man likes when their lord raises taxes.” Alvin shrugged. It sounded like a tough job. He didn’t envy Count Grandhill.

“Worse, many of them have decided that they didn’t need their barony at all and had decided they were lords in their own right. Quite a few used their lord’s lax oversight and the growing tension in the area to arm themselves, and with the poor harvest last year, many turned to banditry.” Mabel shook her head. “Your roads are quite impassable these days. Our scouting parties attacked no less than three times on the journey to East Water, and those were just the bandits blind enough not to spot the arms and armor on our men or foolish enough to think that they could take on trained soldiers.”

“I’m sorry for your loss. Give me back my barony, and I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again,” Alvin suggested.

Mabel laughed at that. She also realized she was still shaking his hand and promptly let it go. “Very funny. Perhaps you can ask my father when you see him. That’s the other thing I came here to talk to you about. Father wants you brought to him when he returns tonight. He’s going to ask you some tough questions. Try to answer him. Spirits know he has a short temper, and these days it’s only getting shorter.”

“Thank you for the warning. Do you have any idea what he wants to talk to me about?” Alvin asked.

“I’m afraid the offer of vassalship is no longer on the table. He won’t give your lands back even if you bend the knee and swear your loyalty to him. That bargain ended when he conquered your lands. Your family name still has value to him, though. And you are well respected in the region for your skill at arms, if not for your talent in ruling your lands. I don’t know for certain, but I’m guessing he’ll want you to publically take back everything you said about him before the war began and peacefully integrate your old lands into Grandhill County. He may even... ah...”

“What?” As Alvin watched, Mabel’s face lit a brighter shade of scarlet.

“Well... he may ask you to agree to a marriage so that we could bring your line into Grandhill’s fold. But that all depends on whether or not he accepts your public apology and thinks you still have something to offer, even with your barony completely in his hands.”

“A marriage. I see.” Alvin nodded. He needed to find out more about Aldrich’s situation. What had he said to Count Grandhill? From the sound of things, Aldrich had insulted the count, but had that come before or after Count Grandhill demanded he become a vassal?

There was a lot going on that he didn’t know about. He’d tried to quiz Clover for everything she knew, but her topics of interest included plants, sex, and not much else. Politics was completely beyond her. That meant there was only one person he had contact with who had the kind of information he’d need, and she was busy shaking his hand.

“Oh, how rude of me,” Alvin said. “Why don’t you come on in? I don’t normally entertain a lady such as yourself in my bed chambers, but in these desperate times, we’ll have to make do.” Alvin gestured Mabel into his room, practically tugging her inside. He shot his head out the door and glared at Count Grandhill’s two guards.

“You two, tea and snacks for Lady Mabel!” Alvin shouted.

The two guards looked at each other.

“Well?” Alvin insisted, putting on the air of a haughty noble. “What are you waiting for? Tell the cook.”

Reluctantly, one guard left, and the other took up position in the center of the doorway. When Alvin tried to close the door, he held out a hand, so Alvin cut his losses.

He hadn’t expected the guard to obey his orders at all. If it had just been him, the guard would have stayed right where he was, but since he was making the request on behalf of Lady Mabel, Alvin’s orders had been followed.

“I’m impressed,” Lady Mabel said. “Those are my father’s men. They’re following his orders. It was hard enough to get them to let me in here, and here you’ve got them serving you tea and biscuits.”

“Well, I am entertaining a lady,” Alvin chuckled. “Perhaps they didn’t want to ruin our lunch date.”

“Maybe so,” Mabel laughed.

***

Alvin found it surprisingly easy to talk to Mabel. Women hadn’t been particularly interested in him back on Earth, but that had changed when he took Aldrich’s body. At first, he’d credited it all to being a baron, but now he was having second thoughts. His former status meant nothing to Mabel, and yet she hung on his every word, eyes darting between her cup of tea and Alvin’s eyes.

They talked about many subjects. Mabel wanted to talk about swordplay since that was a topic she and Aldrich apparently had a shared interest. Aldrich had bested the poor girl a number of times, going all the way back to their youth, and she’d never gotten over the losses.

Alvin didn’t have Aldrich’s memories, so chatting about those topics would quickly lead him into trouble. So whenever she brought up the topic of swordplay, he changed the topic as quickly as he could.

“By the way, have you seen Ripley’s new longsword manual? He recommended unscrewing your pommel and throwing it at your opponent.” Mabel grinned, waiting for a laugh.

“Hilarious. You know there’s a Ripley in town. I think he owns a flower shop. They really are lovely things.”

Mabel’s smile fell a little, but she pressed on. “Anyway, I got this new enchanted longsword. It’s supposed to cleave through lesser swords in a single blow! I would love to show it to you, but the guards won’t let me bring it in. They know how good you are, and they’re afraid you’ll fight your way to freedom if you’re placed within arm’s reach of a sword! I’m almost willing to risk it just to see you fight like you did on the walls of your castle...”

“Perhaps you will again, my lady. But for now, there’s no reason to make your guards nervous. I’m right where I need to be,” Alvin replied. “Now, about that war you mentioned, the one your father launched after I insulted him. Just what exactly was it that got him so frothing with fury that he sent an army my way?”

Alvin dragged out the full story in little bits and pieces. Count Grandhill had been expanding over the last few years. The previous count had spent a generation building up his lands, and his people prospered under a stern and steady hand. Trade and agriculture flourished, and every family had a half-dozen children at the least. Mabel’s father proved to be a leader, just a bit shy of his father’s skill at administration but with far greater skill at calling men to war.

With a realm bursting with settlers and soldiers of fighting age, it was only natural that he’d expand his army and expand his borders. Most of his neighbors were barons, and none of them could have put up a fight against Count Grandhill’s men under ordinary circumstances. With the count’s army five times the size it was only a single generation ago, all the count needed was a valid causus belli, or just cause to explain his call to war.

And so all the neighboring barons around his realm had been trembling in their boots, minding their manners around him and sucking up any insults thrown their way, accidental or otherwise.

All except Baron Aldrich. Count Grandhill sent the baron a letter claiming that three centuries ago, when Aldrich’s ancestors claimed independence from what had once been the far more powerful Grandhill duchy, they’d misspelled the name of a plot of land on their border. Count Grandhill argued that because the name had been misspelled, the document did not grant Aldrich’s family legal right to it, and so he ought to turn the land over.

Baron Aldrich was enraged. The neighboring barons suggested he pay Count Grandhill a small bribe and offer an apology, but Aldrich would have none of it. He dared Count Grandhill to come and take the land if he thought he could claim it.

They exchanged insults, including a few choice words from Aldrich about Count Grandhill being the son of a cowardly lord who would rather have sex with sheep than go to war to defend his honor.

That had admittedly been a little harsh, as Mabel’s grandfather had by all accounts been an excellent ruler and a peaceful neighbor. But Aldrich had been more concerned with how well a man could swing a sword than how well he could govern his lands. Count Grandhill must have been at least somewhat of the same opinion, as he took the insult to heart and declared he would not rest until all of Aldrich’s lands were his, either through vassalage or through arms.

Aldrich had chosen arms, since that was what he knew best. He defended the plot of dirt they were fighting over incredibly well. If his forces had just a hundred men of his own caliber, Count Grandhill’s force of two thousand would have been driven back with their tails between their legs.

But there was only one Baron Aldrich, and his men were poorly paid, poorly equipped, and poorly trained. While he stood firm, everyone else broke ranks and fled at first sight of the enemy army. Aldrich nearly lost his life. He should have died, as by all accounts, he’d taken an arrow to the throat. But rumor said he knew someone with a powerful vitality-aspect spirit, and rapid healing allowed him to survive an otherwise fatal wound.

Alvin would have to ask Clover about that later.

He knew the rest of the story from there. Aldrich fled to East Water, and Count Grandhill was convinced he was going to make a last stand at his family’s old manor in this quiet lakeside town.

Aldrich had tried just that, but with no coin and terrible odds, even Aldrich’s great reputation failed to rally him an army. So he turned his attention to more desperate pursuits, namely finding the solution to his problems in another world.

The man had dedication, if not wisdom. Watching his words to avoid giving Count Grandhill a causus belli would have worked, as would a defensive alliance among all the terrified barons, nervous about losing their lands and titles. Instead, Aldrich had stood on the front lines and swing his sword like it was the only way to win a fight. No doubt, he was busy with Alvin’s body at that very moment, trying to find a secret weapon that would allow him to fight an entire army single-handedly.

In Alvin’s mind, it was too late to save this situation with a Gatling gun on the ramparts or explosives in Count Grandhill’s chamberpot. The fight was lost, and where he went forward from here was a matter of politics, not combat.

“And that’s what my father said after he received word that you didn’t actually have an army waiting for him at East Water,” Mabel said. “We were worried you had some sort of secret family heirloom here that would destroy our entire army as soon as we showed ourselves! It’s why father only sent a third of our force, and even then, my cavalry and I broke out of formation to circle around on our own.”

“Well, in the end, I tricked you by not having any men at all,” Alvin chuckled. “I really hit you with a surprise there.”

“Yes, you did,” Mabel laughed, and to her surprise, sometime while they were talking, her hand had brushed against his and stayed there. She withdrew it quickly with a blush on her face and an awkward shuffle of her shoulders.

Things were just getting awkward when one guard knocked on the guard.

“Prisoner Aldrich, the Count requires your presence,” the guard said.

“I suppose we must cut this evening short, Lady Mabel. But please, I wouldn’t mind having tea with you again.” There was a lot of information left to learn from Mabel, and Alvin planned to figure out as much as she could.

Mabel tried to curtsey, but midway through, she realized she was weary riding leathers instead of a skirt, so she clumsily transitioned to a bow. She hit her head against the lamp on his desk and stumbled backward with flushing cheeks.

Alvin restrained a laugh. “I’ve hit my head on that old thing too. Maybe I’ll finally move it elsewhere.”

“Uh... good evening to you, Aldrich. And good luck.” She gave him a salute with her fist over her heart, and that at least came to her.

As soon as Mabel was out the door, the guards marched in and roughly grabbed Alvin by either shoulder. He tried to walk with as much dignity as he could muster, being carried along like that. It was finally time to meet this Count Grandhill.

Note:

Still working on editing Paladin 3. I’ve got about the first quarter moved up to a new draft, so we’re getting there. I’m signed up for a proofreading pass on the 30’th with an editor, so I’ve got to make sure my major changes are in by then unless I want to redo the proofreading after myself. But that’s how my schedule is looking right now.