Chapter 14: A Little More Wisdom

“Toil” and “trouble” were words with similar meanings, but there was a subtle difference.

Lord Yun’s official career began as Chief Steward for the Warden of the Northern Marches, while the late Lord Anson Thorne was merely a county magistrate. The two had met through their work, but when the King, recognizing Lord Anson’s military genius, promoted him to Deputy Protector of the Northern Marches, Lord Yun chose to follow him. Lord Anson had entered the military as a scholar and a man of letters, while Lord Yun was a warrior from a family of scholars. Both were brave yet refined, and they got along famously. When Lord Anson was granted the Scepter of Command, becoming the Lord-Warden of the Swordfall Marches, he brought Lord Yun with him. Lord Anson organized his forces into eight divisions, each led by a commander, and Lord Yun became one of them.

Two years ago, when bandits rose up in the Western Reaches, its governor asked Lord Anson for military aid. Lord Yun led the expedition, distinguishing himself with a swift and bloody campaign. Lord Anson recommended that the King establish a new Lord-Warden in the Western Reaches, a request the King granted. Lord Yun was granted the Scepter of Command, becoming the new Lord-Warden.

Though he now held the same rank as Lord Anson, everyone in the Swordfall Marches still considered Lord Yun to be one of their own. He never refused to help, and they were never afraid to ask. After Lord Anson’s death, Lord Yun had stayed in the Swordfall Marches, working tirelessly to manage the aftermath. “You have toiled for us,” was what the Thorne family always said to him, a phrase that was reserved for a brother, a friend, someone whose hardship was their own. Valerius had always used the same words. He would consult with Lord Yun on every matter, from military strategy to escorting Lord Kael, even going to Riverbend Hold.

But this time, Valerius had not said it.

He had discussed the arrangements in the Swordfall Marches, but he had never said, "Thank you for your trouble, my lord." So, would the Swordfall Marches no longer require his "trouble"? Lord Yun frowned, looking at the flickering candlelight. Had Valerius simply forgotten? Or was he overthinking things?

A young soldier slipped into his room, quietly placing a basin of hot water on the floor before attempting to leave without disturbing Lord Yun’s contemplation.

"Call for Master Brennan," Lord Yun said without looking up.

Master Brennan was Lord Yun's personal guard. He was a man in his forties but still went by his childhood name. He entered and saw Lord Yun writing at his desk. "My Lord, you should rest soon," he said. Master Brennan had been given to Lord Yun by his father, and they had grown up together, their relationship a comfortable mix of master and servant.

Lord Yun put down his pen and carefully sealed the letter. "I have written a letter for my elder brother. I need you to deliver it yourself." He then took a second, smaller letter and slipped it into the first. The first letter was for his brother, but who was the second for? Master Brennan was curious but did not ask. He had more pressing concerns. His current position meant he was rarely asked to deliver letters. When he was, it meant that the messenger was as important as the message.

This was a critical moment for the Blackwood family because Lord Anson Thorne had died. He received the letter with a solemn expression and left without another word. He would not return to his room; he would ride through the night to his family's fortress in the north.

Lord Yun began soaking his feet. The hot water dispelled his fatigue and eased the furrow in his brow. Whether he was overthinking or not, it was always better to be prepared.

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The rest station was a hub of activity. Guards were patrolling, washing, eating, and laughing, their noise a counterpoint to the night's calm. In his room, Lord Kael was fast asleep, the faint glimmer of tears still on his eyelashes. He had been a diligent traveler, eating all his food and sleeping soundly, but he was still a child. A maidservant gently wiped away his tears, drew the curtains, and put out the lamp.

Lord Kael's departure had calmed the Thorne manor's chaos, and everyone seemed to be relaxing after a month of frantic activity. When the masters are lazy, the servants find it easier to breathe.

In the shadows of the courtyard, two young maids were kicking a shuttlecock, while three others squatted on the ground, chattering and whispering, their skirts rustling. "My embroidery is the newest style from the High Court!" one of them chirped.

"Where did you get it?" another asked.

"Sparrow gave it to me. The Third Lady's maids just got it."

"Did the Third Lord bring it back?"

"The Third Lord is in the Swordfall Marches. No, the maids of the people who came to mourn the late Lord Anson were all using it."

"Give me one!"

"Never. Go ask Sparrow yourself."

"The Third Lady's maids never let go of anything good. Let me just draw it!"

"Hmph, no," the other said, standing up.

Their playful chase turned into a collision with the girls kicking the shuttlecock. The shuttlecock fell to the ground, and a small argument turned into a push-and-shove. The courtyard was suddenly filled with the buzzing of angry crickets.

"What are you doing!" a voice shouted. Mistress Glynnis was walking toward them, her face a mask of fury.

The girls stopped their bickering and crowded together, their heads down. Glynnis looked at the mess on the ground: scattered flowers, the fallen shuttlecock, and some woven reeds. Her chest heaved. She took a deep breath. "Lady Elara is trying to rest. Do not disturb her. If you do this again, you will be sent away."

The girls mumbled their apologies, their heads bowed. Glynnis shot them a stern look and went into the house. As soon as her back was turned, the maids raised their heads, giggling silently and making faces at her.

Glynnis kept her back straight as if she sensed nothing. She strode to Elara's door and called softly, "My Lady."

"Come in, the door is open," Elara said.

Glynnis entered and closed the door. Elara was sitting at her desk, a pen in her hand, lost in thought. Glynnis walked softly and poured her a cup of tea. "Valerius had no issues today. He has been reading the letters from the Swordfall Marches and the High Court."

Elara hummed in response, dipping her pen in ink.

Glynnis stood by her side, watching her. Elara had always been disinclined to deal with people. She had never had to. Now, she was forced to. Glynnis felt a pang of sadness. "Were they bothering you? The Second Lady has assigned many people to you. The ones who were supposed to go to the north have also returned. We don't need so many. Perhaps we should send some of them away?" she said softly.

"Are many of them unhappy here?" Elara looked up, understanding the hidden meaning in her maid's words. The truth was harsh, and hiding it would not change it.

"Yes, My Lady," Glynnis said. "They have lost heart."

First, Lord Anson Thorne had died. Then, Lady Elara had been injured. Her face.

"When young Lord Kael left, you did not come to see him off. They say you are too badly scarred to ever be married," Glynnis said. A woman with no father's protection and no husband's support was considered finished. Her servants, too, had their own dreams.

"Let them go," Elara said, indifferent. She lowered her head and continued to write.

"I will, My Lady," Glynnis said, relieved. "But how many should I keep? And which ones should I choose?" The two maids who had been with Elara had died in the mudslide. The rest, although some had come from the Swordfall Marches, were now afraid to get close to her. Even some of the loyal ones had changed. Glynnis did not know who she could trust.

Elara looked up at the worried girl. "Choose those whom you can rely on, not those whom I can rely on."

Glynnis still looked confused.

"You need people to work for you," Elara explained. "I only need you."

Glynnis had grown up in the Thorne manor. She had friends and mentors among the servants, and even a few admirers. She was like a vine at the base of a great tree; though small, she had a vast and winding root system. She would be Elara's trusted agent, and she would get things done through her own network. It was that simple.

Glynnis's face lit up. "I understand, My Lady!"

Elara considered her for a moment, then offered a final word of comfort. "Do not worry about them. My most reliable people are not in this house."