The Bond - 19. Chapter 19

Eamon walked through the halls using his hands as a guide, feeling every curve of the halls and the texture of every painting, frame, and window that he passed. Now that the Di Coteau estate had calmed from the pandemonium that was hosting hundreds of people during the summit, Eamon felt freer to walk around and attempt navigation. There was no one in the house that he would feel completely uncomfortable displaying his disability in front of, and even though he didn’t relish the thought of becoming a spectacle it was a necessary first step. And I guess I wouldn’t want dark training to go to waste either.

In the academy, all soldiers were subjected to mandatory nighttime and total darkness training as a part of the curriculum. Eamon had always been successful in the dark before, so he figured why shouldn’t I be now? After all, darkness is supposed to be a shield for true Nabians, a cloak for the great killers of our country. The colors are red and black, not just red. Black, for the stealth that we possess, and our fearlessness in the darkest of times. That’s half the creed… and if this doesn’t qualify as a dark time for me, I don’t know what does.

He inched his way forward, annoyed and swearing under his breath when he stubbed his toe on a statue of St. Koba that was inset to the wall he was nearest. I knew that was there, too. And besides that, I should have felt it. Object sensory was one of the most important skills taught in the academy, and one that Eamon quickly realized he needed to brush up on. I need to feel the air, and the vibrations in the ground. I need to hear where things are, use the acoustics of the room to find myself. I need to smell, even taste the world around me. That’s what the instructor said, anyway. He had once dismissed this lesson as bullshit, but was quickly picking up on its value once again. At the academy in Mullansburg, the culmination of sensory deprivation training was an obstacle course that was to be completed entirely in the dark. It was a requirement to graduate, and Eamon had fared decently in its completion. I remember Talia had made it through with the fastest time – of course – but I wasn’t too shabby… and it hadn’t been easy either. Three students had been killed on the course by walking into booby traps.

What did they say? Just breathe… something about the hairs all over your body? The air? Whatever. I’ll figure it out. He continued to walk while building up confidence. On his tour through the estate, Eamon found that he was able to navigate better than he thought when he concentrated. Passing the kitchens, he could hear Alfie’s deep voice through the heavy closed doors, even despite the racket that dishes and brick ovens and busy housing staff were making. He heard Mikhail’s voice in reply, discussing a collaborative project between the kitchens and the smith. Mikhail is saying that the furnace is overworked, I think? Yeah, that probably makes sense. Alex is preparing to go to war and with Luca revitalizing the local economy… bound to be some issues there. He shrugged his shoulders, and moved on.

He walked past the baths, the dining room, the war council chambers, an old wing that had once held cells for prisoners of war, and massive indoor gardens that he previously didn’t even know had existed. I swear, this place is growing. He thought about trying to walk down towards the encampments at the bottom of the hill outside, or one of the fighting rinks, but the distant sound of footsteps and voices that he recognized caused him to stop, and walk towards their source. Luca and Adrian! I’ll bet they’ll be surprised to see me up and about. He put a smile on his face, and listened in in order to locate them. Adrian was speaking most of the time and it seemed like Luca was drilling him with questions.

“Yes, and lots of them,” continued Adrian. “I have to admit practically seventy percent of the population is geriatric at the moment.” Luca laughed. “Most of the younger crowd works the icebergs or sea to the north, and then when that season ends its time for delivery of fish here. The snow crab harvest is also pretty big, maybe you’ve seen some of them here in Nabius?”

“Great big white things, right? They have four claws?”

“Yes, that’s them. That’s one of the bigger moneymakers for the Illjard – extremely expensive and hard to catch, but the Nabian’s love the meat. That’s our biggest export to the Capitol.”

“But not your biggest export overall?” Luca questioned.

“No. It’s typically split between tuna and ice when it comes to commodity exports, but I only get the expense reports and ledgers. Technically Nabian, Ironian, and Tomacian heads are supposed to work out changes trade agreements with me directly, but I don’t mind sourcing out that work to the captains of our vessels. There aren’t a ton of Illjardi left, so we all know each other. I trust most of them.”

“Most?” Adrian laughed.

“Most. You’ll learn the names of the ones you have to circumvent in time. We have a couple of merchants that are borderline pirates and would skimp out on every tax the could if possible, but they’re not too hard to deal with. Much easier than most of the Nabians you’ve dealt with here, I’m sure.”
“I don’t know,” mumbled Luca in reply. “Lets hope. And to be honest working with the traders here gave me enough of a headache for a lifetime.” Adrian laughed politely, but Eamon could tell that Luca had a look of concentration on his face from the inflections in his voice.

His brows are all furrowed up. I love when he does that.

“Such is the way of traders. Actually, if you want, you can meet a few of our top sellers in a few days. They’ll be docking where I came in from then, and it’d be good for them to get to know you. You will be giving orders soon, after all.”

“Oh, well, okay. I guess that wouldn’t hurt. But didn’t you just explain that all the ships would be heading towards the Swells for swordfish season soon? What are they doing here?” Eamon could practically feel Adrian smile when he spoke up next.

“You really are observant. I thought I’d surprise you… I’ve booked passage back to the Illjard for us both to complete the marriage ceremony within a few weeks. I think it’d be best for us to go before General Di Coteau’s war picks up much more.”

“What?” said Luca.

What? thought Eamon. He had stopped just around the corner from where Luca and Adrian were talking, and from the sound of their footfall Adrian and Luca had stopped as well.

“Our captain is going to be Sarah Bjornan, she’s an excellent sailor and has probably the nicest ship in the fleet,” said Adrian with a touch of pride in his voice. “It should be comfortable, and roomy too. Plus, their onboard chef used to work in the Fray palace kitchens and he really is wonderful. I can’t wait to give you your first taste of in-season crab prepared by his hands.”

Not the point. Luca stayed quiet for a little while, and began sounding out his thoughts only after Adrian made a small, uncomfortable coughing noise.

“Adrian… doesn’t that seem kind of soon? I mean, I can’t just ditch everyone here, with the war starting up and all.”

Exactly. Yeah. Luca can’t go.

“Oh. I, um, oh. I’m sorry. It’s not set in stone or anything, but is… there a particular reason you want to stay?”

“I… um. Well, I mean, I pretty much owe my life to the Di Coteaus, and my friends are here… Talia’s gone, I didn’t even say goodbye before she left. And if Alex needs my help while he’s at war, I just feel like I should be here.” Adrian made a noise as if to retort, but paused for a second.

“I get that, but if he’s at war, doesn’t the running of a household and taxes and farming all come to a halt in his territory?”

“I guess… that’s true…”

“And don’t you want to get out of here? I don’t mean to hold this over your head or imply anything by it, but wouldn’t a war put you at risk of getting hurt again? I… I don’t want to see you in pain.”

That statement was genuine. The notes in Adrian’s voice made that abundantly clear to Eamon, but it didn’t make him like Adrian any more than he already did. In fact, Eamon began to frown deeply at this sign of affection, saddened and angered at the same time by the relationship that was on display.

“I’ll be fine. I’ve survived a lot.”
That’s right. Luca needs to stay.

“I know. Which is why I don’t want to see you go through more.”

Ugh.

“Thank you for that… but I just… can I have some time to think about it? This departure seems so soon. And I want to be able to offer whatever I can to the people here before I go. I need to.”

“Okay. I respect that. But I just want you to think about it hard… would what you offer really outweigh the risk of staying? I know you’re skilled, but your part here is done. Alex is back. There’s not a ton left that you really have to give.”

Adrian meant well, but Eamon couldn’t stand it. At that, he walked straight around the corner and shocked the betrothed couple, showing that he had been eavesdropping. But I don’t care. He looked to the direction that he knew that Luca was standing in, and spoke frankly.

“If you believe this guy and really think that you – you, of all people – have nothing left to offer, then you will have lost my respect as a friend. You’re the most capable person I’ve ever known, and even I still think I have something left to give for the common good. Please don’t give up now.” He turned his head to face Adrian, or at least where he hoped Adrian was standing. He was pretty confident that he was correct, but who could blame him if the angle was off a bit? “And you, Prince. I know you’re excited to whisk him off his feet and get out, but Luca has no need of someone telling him what to do or boxing him in. He has the choice of when to go, and his marriage to you is benefiting you more than anyone else. I like you, but please don’t make that change.” He turned on his heels before either could say anything, and proudly walked around the corner and down the hall without bumping into a single object.

***

Carlisle felt wrong reading the mail of others, but he simply couldn’t resist when he saw a symbol that he had recognized. After all of his studying about the Hallowed Order, the crest on a wax-sealed document stood out too much. It’s like the original seal for the founders of the order, but inverted and cut in half. It almost looks like a family crest, a piece of mail that no one would recognize or care about, but I know those markings. Clever. The scroll was sitting on Eric Chamberlin’s desk, still sealed amongst a stack of other deliveries. There was an oil lamp meant for reading late into the night as Director Chamberlin often did, and Carl hoped that he could use the heat of it to reseal the wax emblem on the letter after he had read it. He carefully removed it from the bottom of the rolled up parchment, keeping the face of the seal completely intact and smiling when he did so.

That’s strange. It’s addressed to my father. Why does Director Chamberlin have mail that belongs to my father? A mistake, perhaps. He looked behind him at the door, wondering where Chamberlin was. Carl had just walked from the direction of the main royal housing towards the office and hadn’t encountered Chamberlin, so he knew that he was likely off in the other direction. There was no real reason for him to be away from either his office or the royal sector, so Carl assumed that he was attending to some other business. Safe to read. He scanned down the letter, eyeing some of the names that were mentioned alongside his husband’s. He also caught the names of several members that appeared to be in the Order, speculating over each of them as he read them.

Laura, Giovanni, and Almanita Nandra… yeah that figures that they’d be in an underground society. It spans all nations and is supposed to be for the good of all three… makes sense why they’re all allies. Well Laura and Almanita. Giovanni too, sort of, but passively. I guess it’s better than opposition. He read on, surprised to see the name of another Nabian general.

Elsa Torne… so maybe her motives really are pure. She doesn’t bring much in the way of an army, but clearly she’s more connected than Alex or I thought… interesting. I’ll keep that one in mind. And the Coynes and Monciets too? Who all is really working together? … only heir, Jared Coyne. Huh.

Okay, further on… yadda yadda yadda… taxes… a membership fee – oh wow, that’s a steep ass price to have a spot – but boring stuff bottom line. I’m just glad I figured out that this was a letter from the Order. And it’s proof that they exist! My Dad isn’t crazy, that’s a relief… Well this isn’t exciting. Oh… oh. Yago Clarion… there we go. Finally a name of import.

He read on, eyes widening as he went. There were allusions to a “plague” that Carl knew nothing of, and a widespread problem that was supposedly something that required immediate attention. He read about Yago Clarion’s involvement with the provincial tribes, and that the Order believed that this relationship was what had cultivated the problem in the first place. Supposedly Ironia was suffering the worst of the blight, but Carl didn’t know what it was. There hasn’t been any sickness that I’ve noticed or heard about? He shrugged it off, getting to a piece of intelligence that he thought was very valuable.

Damien Di Coteau has been in constant correspondence with Yago Clarion… that’s not good. I need to tell Alex that – Carl heard the latch of a door start to turn, and stood up immediately. He shoved the letter behind his back, and turned around to face the entryway of the office while leaning casually on the top of the desk just in time for Eric Chamberlin to walk through the door. Chamberlin paused, looking questioningly at the intruder in his office and then respectfully bowing his head.

“My Prince. What a nice surprise to see you.”

Oh fuck. The letter was still in Carlin’s hand, opened, and with a seal that needed fixing. Can I do this behind my back? The lantern was on, but Carl had no idea if he would be able to melt the seal, reattach the binding to the parchment, and set it down in the pile of unopened mail in time.

“Yes, Director Chamberlin,” he said matter-of-factly while rolling up the letter. “I wanted to speak with you about the distribution of troops towards my husband. Estimates are in, and he’s going to need as many men as we can spare.” Now if I can just get the wax hot enough…

“Yes, Carl, I’ve talked at great length with your father about this.” The Director began walking towards his desk as he spoke, and Carl pivoted slowly to keep his back out of view while the panic began to set in. “When it comes down to it, I just have to make the recommendation that we keep our troops where they are. I know that this is important to you, but – “

“It’s important to all of us,” said Carlin, way too loudly. The interruption startled Chamberlin, stopping him for moment in his tracks. JUST MELT ALREADY.

“It is…” said Chamberlin slowly… “but I still feel we need to be practical. Tomacia is in a critical state right now. We need our strength conserved.” Carl felt the letter in his hand get too close to the lantern, and catch fire behind his back.

Oh no. He did the best thing that he could think of to do in the moment, and put on a face of outrage. He slammed his fist on the desk, and with the other hand tipped the lantern over onto the pile of unread mail. He began to shout about the dedication of the nations to each other if they wanted to survive while pretending not to have noticed the commotion behind him. Several items went ablaze, and Chamberlin’s expression and immediate action made Carl stop and feign concern.

“Oh gods, Director, I’m so sorry!” The two scrambled to use blankets and a nearby vase of water to put out the flames, but by the time they did several were at least partially burned or darkened. Carl organized the letters back into a pile while Chamberlin cleaned around the desk, and noticed that the particular letter that he had been reading was burnt to a point where you could never have told that it was already opened. He turned and faced the director, and began lying with a confidence he never knew he had.

“I’m so sorry to have burned your mail! It looks like most of them are still readable – I guess I just got so excited about this cause. I hope there was nothing too valuable here?”

“Nothing of grave concern,” said Eric with a grimace on his face, “but it looks like most of this can be salvaged. No harm done… or not much at least…” Chamberlin looked over each document individually, taking note of the seals that were showing. Carl studied his face closely, and noticed a distinct facial twitch that occurred when his eyes passed over the note that bore the secretive seal of the Hallowed Order.

So he did know about that. He was looking for it specifically. Carl felt proud of his ability to read faces, a trick that he had picked up in Nabius that was now serving him well. Why is he taking my father’s mail? Chamberlin looked directly into his eyes after seeing the damaged document, and a glimmer of mistrust shone through.

“Yes… I can see that you’re helping Nabius and your husband in every way that you can.”

That’s a loaded statement. Does he know that I was snooping? Does he know that I know what that is? Does he know that I know that he knows? Carl resisted the urge to gulp, but couldn’t help but feel the noticeable change in atmosphere and palatable suspicion that had just built up between him and the director. He turned, and walked towards the doorway.

“Director Chamberlin?”

“Yes, prince?” There was derision in his voice.

“I expect however many troops Alexandre Di Coteau requests to be sent to him will be sent. That’s an order.” Carl walked out of the room, wiping the sweat from his brow.