Yshnim sighed. Trystan stood where he was, thinking over everything that had happened since they set foot on the road, trying to figure out what it was that he had missed. His mind came up empty, so he braced himself for a reproval.

  “All that talk of slowing them down,” Yshnim said, pointing with her chin.

  The tax collectors were still breaking their camp, packing with no apparent order in mind, while Yshnim and Trystan had already rolled their beddings, taken nature’s call and saddled their horses, then brought them to the roadside to await their guides.

  Not his mistake, then. Trystan was gd. Yshnim wasn’t the type to scold, but being reminded of something still hurt a little. He didn’t want to disappoint someone he looked up to.

  They had been sharing the road with Viscount Card’s men for three days, following a well-worked trail north from Shallow Pit. Despite the carts filled with sacks of grain and coin, the men were zy.

  “Talk, Trystan. They’re too far to hear.”

  He gnced at her, nodding. “I was just thinking that they are zy. They don’t seem worried about doing this job fast, which likely means they never had issues with it before. No bandits in the region, and perhaps a Viscount that isn’t particurly harsh. Or they’re well ahead of schedule.”

  “Be more specific. What kind of people are they?”

  Trystan stared at the men. The youngest among them seemed to be in their thirties.

  “They’re trusted enough to be tax collectors, but they’re not used to the road. Not travelers or soldiers, at least none that have seen much fighting. Men from around the region with some connections, perhaps with retions to minor noble houses. Mayor Boros told us about the troubles they caused in the past and some of those men are likely here, so we shouldn’t expect any of them to hear us out.”

  “Lazy egocentric pushovers,” Yshnim said, tapping on Trystan’s shoulder.

  The tax collectors were finally coming up the path to the road, coachmen nudging the horses pulling the carts forward while the others came in behind holding their mounts by the reins. No pleasantries were exchanged while the men got ready for the road.

  The carts started moving and Yshnim and Trystan followed, staying a good distance behind.

  It was still morning when the keep came into view. All grey stone, squarish and tall. It had been built by the turn of a river that cut the ndscape from northeast to southwest. There was no settlement around the walls save for a couple wooden buildings behind the farming fields. The keep looked lonely and dark above the green grass. An odd pce for a Viscount to live in, when there were cities both up and down the river.

  Yshnim’s earlier reminder still in his mind, Trystan spoke, “The keep overlooks the river and the road. Anyone coming down the river or up the road would be spotted soon after they could see the keep. There’s probably a bridge crossing the river, but I can’t see it from here. This crossing must have seen frequent use in the past. It would be a hard pce to siege from any side that isn’t south.”

  Back completely straight atop her mount, Yshnim pointed forward. Trystan straightened.

  “Look at the other side of the river.”

  He had looked, but there was nothing there. The keep’s side of the river was open field and low grass, while the other side was thick trees that extended as far as Trystan could see, which wasn’t much from their position.

  “Trees and more trees. Though it’s thick woods there, it would be much easier to go unnoticed from that side.”

  “Which means this pce isn’t being maintained. A stern casteln used to combat would order the trees be cut down and the boles dug out so the keep doesn’t have a blind side.”

  I hadn’t thought about that. Trystan imagined how it would have looked like that way. The opposite side would be naked nd for a mile. A small army could camp there, but if they got that close to the keep it was best to see the enemy than not. They’d still need to cross the river without a bridge or move farther north to use the crossing that led into the keep — Trystan still couldn’t see it, but he was sure it was there —, fighting to take a bridge that would lead to a closed gate.

  The pce had been raised for battle and had definitely seen some, but that had been long ago.

  “Do you know of any battles that took pce here?” he asked.

  “I don’t, but they have happened,” Yshnim answered. “The Viscounts on the two keeps up and down the river weren’t always blood-reted and even that does little to prevent fighting. The nd and the river have always been here, but one day someone raised a keep and called it theirs. Men died on this road and drowned on that river to protect those stones, and now the base of its walls are covered in moss and vines.”

  They were close enough now that Trystan could see the green creeping up from the foundation stones.

  I hope you don’t say any of that in front of the Viscount. He had only known Yshnim for a couple more months than Aien had, but Trystan hadn’t seen her dealing with nobles yet.

  His worries faded upon seeing her perfectly straight back and the impassive, unworried look in her eyes. The keep’s draw-gate was already open and when they stepped into the courtyard Yshnim unmounted and handed the reins to a pageboy as if she was familiar with the pce. Perhaps there wasn’t anything in this world that could shake her.

  Trystan unmounted, handed the reins to another pageboy and stood by Yshnim’s side.

  They had to wait as the tax collectors exchanged words with other men of the keep’s staff. Some approached to take the carts elsewhere and the group disbanded. Only Frassar remained, discussing something with another man that Trystan was too far away to hear. When this man also left, Frassar finally turned and approached them.

  “Armsmasters, you are guests in the keep and quarters will be prepared for you.”

  As he turned to leave and they followed, Yshnim asked, “When will Viscount Card see us?”

  “Most likely tomorrow. I would sleep early if I were you. The Viscount is a busy man and these are busier days.”

  From the quickness of his steps Trystan could tell that Frassar wanted to get this done with. He didn’t break his step as they walked through corridors and up staircases, their white cloaks bringing surprised and worries stares their way. Soon they were left in a chamber with a window view to the road they had just come through.

  Yshnim dumped her pack in one of the beds and sat down to remove her boots.

  “We should look presentable when the Viscount calls for us. If they don’t offer us one, I’ll ask for a bath after supper. Chainmail or no chainmail?”

  Trystan had been anticipating a question.

  “Being armored will give us the look of the busy, serious fighters we are, but if we are to ask something of the Viscount it’s better to not risk offending him.”

  “No chainmail,” Yshnim said as she nodded her approval. “What about my weapons?”

  “You are Fourth Bde, so it’s better to keep them,” Trystan answered as he sat in his own bed.

  “If chainmail would offend a noble, why wouldn’t a sword?”

  “They carry swords all around themselves, but the important part is that you won’t be seen as expecting a fight if you’re unarmored, yet the weapons are a sign of your prowess. You would look no different from his men.”

  “Assuming the Viscount is as perceptive as you are.”

  “They are trained to be,” Trystan said, removing the first of his riding boots.

  There was a knock on the door.

  Trystan and Yshnim stared at each other.

  “Armsmasters?” a young male voice came from the other side.

  Yshnim made for the door, shooting Trystan a long gnce that told him to be ready for anything.

  When she pulled the door open, a young server was waiting.

  “I am sorry to disturb you, but the Duke would like to see you.”

  I thought we should wait until to—

  The Duke?

  “Would the Duke allow us the time to clean up?” Yshnim asked.

  “My lords, the Armsmasters.”

  The clerk announced them, then closed the door as they walked in.

  The hall was at least three times the size of Mayor Boros’, decorated with paintings of posing nobles and well-lit by sunlight. Ptes were still on the long table, though the trusted men who ate with the lieges weren’t anywhere to be seen.

  Only two men waited for them, one by the seat of honor and the other off to the side, staring through the window. Both looked equally as old, in their forties or maybe fifties, but in very different ways. The first had a hunch to his shoulders, bck hair and beard allowed to grow long, while the second had his graying brown hair kept short and shaved back and away from his eyes, beard well-trimmed.

  Trystan thought he could immediately tell which was which.

  Still standing by the door, Yshnim gave a deep bow and Trystan copied her.

  “It is my pleasure to receive an Armsmaster as accomplished as you are, Fourth Bde,” the first man spoke.

  The second one turned at hearing that.

  “Yshnim Tram of the Armsmasters, Viscount. It is my pleasure as well. This is Trystan, one of my recruits.”

  A signal from the Viscount and they were allowed to approach. Trystan simply copied Yshnim, walking with the same speed as she did and stopping by the opposite end of the table. They hadn’t been invited to sit and both lords were standing.

  The Viscount raised a hand to his side. “My most honored guest, the Duke Jori Gillbow called for you as soon as he heard that Armsmasters were in the keep.”

  The Duke approached the table, a goblet in his hand and a dueling saber by his side. The man had well-defined ugh lines around his green eyes and mouth.

  He studied them for a long moment before saying anything.

  “I have a long history with the Armsmasters. We have worked together on multiple occasions. I’m as grateful as any man when news arrives that an issue that needed fixing has been solved by one of you. My daughter’s bodyguard is an Armsmaster, though I’m afraid he’s only a Second Bde.”

  “A higher Bde means more weapons mastered, but some are better than everyone else at one thing,” said Yshnim.

  “Yet a higher Bde tends to be better, more lethal, more versatile, don’t they?”

  “They tend to, yes. Fortunately, fighting is not all that we do, at least not the ones like us. Sometimes, the best help we can provide are a couple extra hands to sow a field.”

  The Duke nodded, took one st sip of his goblet and picked up a bottle to refill it.

  “Wine?” he asked.

  “Only if it’s not hot and spiced.”

  A smile crept up the Duke’s lips.

  He filled two more goblets before approaching with one in each hand.

  “I won’t keep you for longer than necessary after you just arrived from the road, but if I understood it then you are here to speak with Viscount Card?”

  Trystan and Yshnim accepted the goblets and both took a sip. It was the sweetest wine he had ever tasted in the best way possible.

  Not bothering to wait for an answer, the Duke moved aside to stare at whatever it was that interested him through the windows, leaving them with the Viscount.

  Yshnim started, “Viscount Card, if you’ll allow me, I’ve come to speak for the people of Shallow Pit. Mayor Boros shared some of the town’s troubles and I believe an outsider like me can help.”

  A nod from the Viscount told her to continue.

  “Firstly, they have had some troubles with the men who came to offer their services after the news of the Marquess passing. Shallow Pit is a small town, and sometimes travelers feel empowered in starting fights if they believe they’ll be leaving soon.”

  “What are you suggesting?” the Viscount asked calmly.

  “Perhaps guards could help. Maybe more frequent visits from your men, instead of simply the monthly tax collectors.”

  The Viscount squinted his eyes.

  “This is about the increase in taxes?” again, his voice was calm.

  Trystan had had the impression the people of Shallow Pit didn’t expect to be heard. Was that because the tax collectors wouldn’t pass on their worries, leaving the citizens to expect retaliation from those men if a petitioner reached the Viscount’s ears?

  Maybe it’s much simpler than that. Maybe he’s calm because he’s in the Duke’s presence.

  “Only partially. Between the troubles caused by travelers, the murder of a boy called Trystan Leatherer and the increase in taxes, some of the townspeople are feeling abandoned. I understand that Duke Gillbow is here to oversee the passing on of the Marquess’ inheritance?”

  The Duke gnced their way, but said nothing.

  “He is, but the reason why I’ve ordered to keep the risen taxes is simple. Duke Gillbow has not spoken with Viscount Dosan yet and we can’t know what that man is pnning. I don’t wish for war, but if it comes to that the grain will feed the men and the coin will pay for gear and supplies.”

  Nodding, Yshnim said, “I understand, Viscount Card, but I would still like to point out the people’s dissatisfaction. They’re scared of what will happen to them in a war if, and forgive me for saying it, but if they are already abandoned without one. And if there is not one, then some of them will compin that it was for nothing.”

  “It is not only Shallow Pit. I’ve doubled the taxes everywhere else. It’s simply the way of things. I appreciate your willingness to help, Armsmasters, but even if there is some dissatisfaction among the commonfolk, Shallow Pit is still one of the smallest settlements in my nd.”

  “How small is Shallow Pit?” the Duke asked from the corner.

  All three turned to him, still by the window, but now turned to face them once more.

  “There are one, maybe two-thousand people there,” Viscount Card said.

  “Closer to one-thousand, from what I’ve heard,” Yshnim added.

  “And what do they work?” the Duke asked, his eyes on Yshnim.

  “It’s a town of farmers. There are no rge rivers nearby, only a few streams, not enough for there to be much fishing, and they rely on wells. The rest have common occupations, like seamstresses and leatherworkers. Everything else they produce is only enough to feed families, mostly by selling their goods to travelers.”

  The Duke turned to the Viscount. “How far away is Shallow Pit?”

  “Three days on horseback following the trail south.”

  “Far enough away from the river and the road west that travelers rarely stop by, and when they do it’s in small groups. Any amount of attention will come across as too much attention to people living in such a pce. Is this your assessment as well, Armsmaster Yshnim?”

  “It is, Duke Gillbow.”

  The Duke nodded to himself a couple times, then approached the table to refill his goblet once more — a heavy drinker, Trystan noted — speaking as he did so, “I’ve had a simir petition in the past. Well, plenty of them, but this one in particur. It felt like too small an issue for me to care about, so I took the first suggestion and cut down taxes by a fourth. Still higher than it used to be, but lower than the highest. In the following months other matters were settled — nothing grand, but it did lead to most of a forest being chopped down. Point is, by the following year the increased taxes of the previous year weren’t an issue with the increased wood trade more than making up for the difference.”

  As Duke Gillbow turned for his preferred spot by the window once more, Trystan had to fight to keep a frown away from his face.

  Something about the Duke’s phrasing made the story feel completely fabricated, but its meaning was obvious. It hadn’t been an order, but a suggestion.

  Just a suggestion, but in following it the Viscount would surely expect to be privileged in settling the matter of inheritance. As far as Trystan knew, the Duke had only recently arrived and chose to visit Viscount Card before Viscount Dosan.

  The rest was mere formality. They left the hall with an invitation to stay on the keep for as long as they wished and permission to retrieve a fourth of Shallow Pit’s monthly taxes.