Lord Storm Nattas

What does Scaldingport want?

King Alistair clenched his jaw, lips pressed into a thin line, but Miranda held his stare defiantly. The aged King grunted in frustration and sat back on his throne. Storm licked his dry lips, an eye on the nervous Queen and waited for the King of Regia to give him permission to speak.

Alistair turned his attention on him, a hand placed on the armrest and the other rubbing at his wrinkled forehead, under the crown.

“You can talk Nattas,” He rustled.

“Magister Gordian conspired to create unrest during the wedding my Lord,” Storm started immediately, Miranda’s eyes narrowing at his words. “He also tried to sweep the city from those he deemed ‘unbelievers’, Naossis followers included. The Magister lost control of the situation, people revolted and attacked his priests, local gangs taking part in the looting that followed.”

“That was your theory, from the other day,” Alistair commented.

“Not a theory anymore. Gordian used the Order of the Golden Spears to round up as many as he could, killing indiscriminately. Including officials, judges and civilians. I have his confession signed.”

“You found him?” The King asked.

“He was injured in the explosion at the Dome. An explosion they caused.”

“Where is he now?”

“He’s dead my Lord. Perished under questioning.”

King Alistair snorted. “How convenient Lord Nattas. I heard there was a warrant for your arrest.”

“Far from convenient, my King,” Storm argued. “As you’ll read, it is a very complicated conspiracy. As for my ‘warrant’, I believe they wanted me killed as well.”

“For being a devout follower of Naossis?”

Storm glanced at the Queen.

“That was the excuse and I’m not devout on anything.”

Alistair snorted, agreeing with that last part.

“Did he order Silvie murdered?” Miranda asked.

“He claimed the plan was to create unrest and give opportunity to the Church to conduct their pogrom. Kelholt’s plan,” Storm added.

“The High Magister is involved?” Alistair asked in turn, surprisingly calm. “Gordian names him?”

“He does. As I said, the plan for the wedding wasn’t an assault on the kids, but for a small crowd to cause enough trouble, to get a decision out of you my Lord.”

“Yet, an assault did happen, Nattas. A heavy bolt killed my daughter. You were there,” King Alistair breathed once deep and stared at him accusingly.

“I want Kelholt arrested,” Miranda hissed, her hands clenched into fists. She was shivering, Nattas noticed. “Brought before me, so I can kill him myself!”

“Dear,” Alistair said tiredly. “Let me get to the bottom of this.”

“What more do you need to learn?” Miranda snapped. Alistair blinked taken aback and glared at Nattas.

Solve this, his eyes ordered him.

“Gordian insisted, the assassination attempt wasn’t part of their plan. I believe him,” Storm said simply and Miranda shook her head in disbelief.

“He’s lying!”

“He’s also dead,” Nattas told her. “Whatever the priest knew, I got out of him.”

“Could Kelholt had acted unbeknownst to Gordian?” Alistair queried.

“He could, but I doubt it,” Storm replied and watched Sirio slowly getting up and standing on his feet, pale-faced and wide-eyed. Just don’t speak, Nattas’s eyes urged him. “Kelholt would never harm the Heir. He’s very close to the family.”

“A religious man,” Alistair added. “Seems hardly likely.”

“He’s a monster,” Miranda hissed. “What’s religion got to do with it?”

“I think another party was involved,” Nattas said quickly to avoid an argument breaking out. “I’d like to ask for privacy my Lord,” He added and Alistair frowned. He signed with his hand for the scribes to leave the throne room, escorted by a couple of his guards.

“Who else, Lord Nattas?” The King asked and there was anger in his voice now. Whether directed at him, or Miranda that had started sobbing, Storm didn’t know.

He couldn’t let his emotions get in the way now. Nattas kept his own voice even.

“Lord Anker Est Ravn. Gordian named him as the third conspirator,” He told the King.

Alistair smacked his lips and nodded for Sir Rottas Barnard to approach. The Knight did, walking briskly, red plate armor gleaming and clanging.

“Hand him the confession, Lord Nattas,” Alistair ordered.

Storm offered the square faced Knight the scroll and he snatched it away, then walking energetically gave it to the King. Alistair proceeded to read it for a long minute.

“You think the Est Ravns’ ordered the assassination?” The King asked after poring over it. His face dark.

“I don’t think so,” Nattas replied. “Their involvement is troublesome though.”

“They command the Second Foot,” Alistair noted. “Much coveted by the forces dying in Raoz. Not to mention their influence on the Vanzons’ and the North.”

“That is true.”

“If not them, then who?”

“The Khan seems the more likely suspect,” Nattas said. “Yet, there’s no evidence he was involved as well.”

“Are you still looking?” Alistair queried.

“Aye, actively. The assault was planned and paid for, by a third party. Assassins of the Guild were used. They took advantage of Kelholt’s plan, used that opening to attack the children.”

This last part, Storm wasn’t certain about.

Were the children, the real target?

A Scorpion is hardly an accurate weapon.

“Kelholt would never have approved something that placed him in the line of fire,” Alistair agreed and stared at Miranda silently sobbing in her chair. “Would the High King accept your evidence Nattas?”

The question wasn’t for his ears.

“I don’t believe he will,” Storm played along. “Even if he did, I don’t see him publicly denouncing the Lord of Midlanor.”

“He might have had his son killed!” Alistair snapped, some of his anger spilling out.

Nattas stilled his feet. “It’s not a matter of feelings, my King. The Throne takes priority. Moreover, the timing is horrible for him.”

“Antoon is much braver talking about Lucius though. Then again he can’t have the Crulls’ turned on him as well,” Alistair rustled, clenching his jaw and stood up. “I need to think on this Nattas. Unfortunately, I have Lord Ruud coming for dinner. I offered him a tour of the city, which he declined rudely, since apparently that old crow doesn’t much appreciate pointless tours.”

Nattas blinked. “He said that?”

“Wrote it in a letter,” Alistair replied, shaking his head. “My late father, Uher rests his soul, thought him a vulgar thug and he was the most tolerant man I’ve known.”

Storm sighed.

“What does Scaldingport want, my Lord?”

Alistair shrugged his shoulders, the query echoing inside the walls of the old palace.

“I haven’t the faintest,” The king replied finally. “Given the situation, I’m inclined to listen.”

Sirio almost collapsed the moment they got out of the palace. Storm had to steady him for a couple of meters and pause for a break in the middle of the square.

“I’m okay,” Sirio blurted out. “The worst is over.”

“Good,” Nattas replied, eyeing the soldiers patrolling the square, still undergoing repairs. Except for the buildings next to the Dome and the Dome itself. There more time was needed. And funds. “I caution you, we’re not out of the woods yet. This was the beginning. Now walk, afore people start wondering what we’re talking about.”

They strode down the road leading to his house right after that warning. Sirio had managed to recover somewhat and they reached it without further delays.

Maja didn’t think the young man was cut out for the job. She also offered a remedy of sorts an hour later, after they had retired to his bedroom.

“He needs a good fuck to get the cobwebs out of his system first,” The assassin elucidated, while pleasuring an uninterested Storm’s cock. “And you seem completely turned off. I’m not satisfied emotionally Lord Nattas.”

“You’re a killer,” Storm commented. “I’m pretty sure you’ve no sensitivities.”

“Aww,” Maja purred and slapped him where it hurt the most. Storm muffled a cry of pain and watched her jump down his bed lithely. She touched her amulet and turned into an old woman again.

Damn, Storm thought, seeing the sagging skin and many wrinkles. Maja seeing his reaction chuckled, the sound a bit grotesque coming from her older mouth.

“If you’d shown any interest in this form, I would’ve been surprised. Now, I’m just certain, dear Storm,” The assassin said with a smirk, noticing his reaction. “There’s another woman between us.”

“I have a lot on my mind,” Storm admitted, part of it a dodge.

“Uhm, well… On that note, I’ll need to find a boyfriend father,” She announced and Nattas shook his head.

“You can forget about it. I can’t have anyone getting in my inner circle right now.”

“What about Parkor?”

She was being serious.

“My nephew? Good grief woman, we are not living in Imperial times!”

Not to mention, what common folk may forgive in nobility, is frowned upon for the rest of us.

“I’m getting up in years,” Maja warned him, sounding troubled.

The fact Nattas was having this conversation with her, was bordering the surreal.

Storm sighed and stared at his shriveled and hurting cock.

“There’s some juice still left in you,” He said, after a contemplating moment. “Give it a year.”

“What?” She gasped. “What am I to do in the meantime?”

Ah, kill stuff?

“Whatever you do, make sure people don’t find out,” Storm replied and placed both his feet down. He needed to sleep, but the King wanted him present for Lord Ruud’s visit and dinner apparently. So sleep went out of the window. Fucking as well, he thought sourly. “If they do and they bother me, I may have to punish you dear. Publicly and for long.”

“You’ll hurt your only daughter?” Maja taunted, putting a dress on.

“You’re not my daughter,” Storm warned her. “If you were and had come to me with such an insolent query, I would have beaten that smile off your fucking mouth.”

Huh, this is going to be a riot, Storm thought, already sweating in his tight velvet doublet. Or a bloodbath. The red color on it, matching the King’s, with Miranda looking lovely in her mourning black-silk gown.

Since looking at the Queen’s swelling breasts, spilling out of the low cut of her summer dress, wasn’t going to be well-received, Lord Nattas turned his eyes on the Herald, freshly relocated from Cartagen. The man in question, hair brushed and oiled away from his austere face, cleared his throat once, glanced at the open doors to the throne room behind him and then read from his scroll.

“Hear, hear. The Lord of Scaldingport, the venerable Ruud De Weer,” The Herald checked his scroll one more time, saw nothing more there and proceeded to the next line. “Sir Rik De Weer, Commander of Forestfort and Lady Janneke De Weer.”

“Good grief,” The ancient Lord said strolling into the hall, flanked by a one-eyed knight and a tall, but graceful Issir girl. “This has been even longer than I’d feared it’ll be! I almost dropped dead looking at a mouldy wall!” He glared at the Herald, narrow face rucked and white hair thinning at the top of his head. “And what was that venerable crap? You could’ve used admired son, or august, for crying out loud. I know I’m old, ye don’t have to rub it in!”

“Lord Ruud,” King Alistair said dryly, from the top of the long table brought in for the occasion. “It’s a rather hot day, perhaps we can have a cup to quench your thirst and welcome you proper?” The Queen was sitting on his left side, with Storm sitting across from her, on the King’s right. More a matter of keeping the meeting away from public eyes and not Storm being elevated to the position.

“Ah, but of course,” Lord Ruud replied, his voice grating to Storm’s ear. The man was over seventy, thin as a rail, but energetic in his manners and spirit. Notoriously difficult to get along with. He walked briskly to his side at the opposing end of the long table and sat down. “Let’s have that drink King Alistair, as is the custom. This way,” He looked at Storm with a nasty leer, his cunning eyes gauging him up. “If one your guards stabs me in the back, I can protest to the Gods and die exonerated afore Kings and mortals! Right? Haha!”

King Alistair grimaced and raised his gold goblet. Storm feared he’d hurl it across the room and on Lord Ruud’s face.

Fortunately the King didn’t.

“To your health, Lord Ruud. Seeing you again, while unexpected is a pleasant surprise.”

As pleasant as getting shanked in the kidneys, Storm thought, keeping his thoughts off his face.

Lord Ruud, well-oiled chainmail worn over his own black velvet doublet, raised his goblet after he sniffed at it a couple of times. “King Alistair, last I’ve seen ye, there was still some baby-fat over those creases and plenty of hair on yer head. Alas my friend you’ve aged as have I, but I’m sure you’ve plenty left in the cistern. So here it is then, to your health.”

Alistair frowned, but managed to compose himself. He had a sip from his wine and put the goblet down, while the Knight and the young woman took their spots next to the Lord of Scaldingport. The Old Crow watching them, an incredulous look on his dilapidated face.

“That’s my second son,” Lord Ruud jeered, “Give him time to find the bloody chair your Grace,” He sighed deeply troubled. What the fuck? Storm thought, while the chastised Knight managed at last to sit down, the table rattling. “He’s got the one eye as you can see. He’s not blind at least, though it depends on the side yer looking at him, haha!”

Sir Rik grimaced, skin scarred where that Cofol Prince had ruined his eye and nodded to the King of Regia. If he was flushed, his dark Issir skin hid it well, Storm thought.

“Sir Rik,” Alistair said, clearly already annoyed by his obnoxious father. “I heard you presented yourself nobly in last year’s tourney.”

“Gratitude, your Grace,” Sir Rik rustled. His leather patch making him look more like a pirate, than a knight. Although his dark-grey plate, the figure of a crow engraved on his chest, left no question of his status. Storm, who’d seen him compete, respected his prowess. “I had him beat, same as Sir Ralph, but I was cheated out of it. My condolences for yer loss.”

“Thank you,” Alistair replied gravely and reached for his goblet. “I haven’t forgotten about the Prince, despite the losses of these past months.”

“Bah, cheated,” Lord Ruud countered, his fingers rapping at the table. “Who cares that he did? That cunt won, the way I see it. Gotten the Princess from Antoon and we’re left discussing it over drinks, cocks in hand,” He paused, turned his eyes on a blank faced Miranda and grinned showing surprisingly most of his teeth. “Apologies for the coarse language, your Grace. Yer lovelier in person than in any mention from bards I’ve listened to and much younger looking.”

“I appreciate the compliment, Lord Ruud,” Miranda said, without looking at him. She probably didn’t, Storm thought. “I can handle a strong word.”

“Hmm, I know my tongue is vulgar,” Lord Ruud admitted. “Also true, an Alden lass is made of sterner stuff. Now I don’t give a darn about the former, since I’m old as fuck, but I can appreciate in turn, a strong woman with some meat on her bones. Aye,” He raised his goblet to a teeth-grinding scowling King Alistair. “Yer young fit cousin, was a good choice my friend, despite what loose-tongues said.”

Storm prayed Alistair wouldn’t kill him before food was served.

He was famished, on top of dog tired.

Storm cut a piece of tenderloin with a knife and brought it to his mouth, Lord Ruud’s sound of slurping at a large bone dominating the table. Nattas chewed on it savoring the taste, the roast and meat excellent, then washed his mouth with some more of the king’s wine. He turned his eyes on the young –rather conservatively dressed for the weather- Issir woman sitting at the other corner of the large table, nibbling at her boiled sweet-syrup covered potatoes.

Tall and rather thin. She does have a pleasant face and almond eyes, though she’s nowhere near Princess Elsanne’s beauty, Storm mused. Lady Janneke avoided his stare, but Lord Ruud catching Storm’s inquisitive glances smirked and dropped his well-peeled bone into his messy plate.

“I’d venture a guess, though I’m not a betting man,” Lord Ruud’s grating voice started, while he wiped his greasy hands with a towel. “That weasel-looking lad, is ill-reputed Lord Nattas. Now excuse my fucking tongue, but I just couldn’t come up with another description, King Alistair. Lord Nattas, yer also appear rather scraped for a minister of state. I find that commendable, so there is that to fall back on son,” Storm grimaced, a tick appearing on his left eye, but Miranda bit her lip across from him, to keep a chuckle in and her reaction calmed him down.

This is a tactic by the Old Crow, he realized. He’s trying to rattle everyone, so they make a mistake. Just don’t bite.

“I assume you have a point to make, Lord Ruud,” King Alistair hissed. The King had barely eaten from his own plate. Sir Rik for comparison hadn’t stopped yet and was on his third helping.

“Several, but I’ll keep it at a bare minimum not to burden yer lovely cousin,” Lord Ruud replied.

“My wife, can bloody handle it,” Alistair snapped, clearly on the verge of losing his temper. Storm breathed slowly out and waited for the Lord of Scaldingport to speak.

“There’s a war going on in Raoz,” Lord Ruud said, returning the King’s glare with a leer. “Another in the North, but let us just focus our attention on the former for now,” He paused, smacked his lips and eyed his son digging in to his food reproachfully. “This war is going to shite for Antoon. Rida is a ruin, another one… mayhap to match Eplas’ collection of famed rubble. I try to remember, whether there’s a city left standing on that coast, or not. Hehe,” Seeing no one was finding the humor in his words, he frowned and scratched his nose.

“We are informed of the disaster in Raoz,” Alistair said, to goad him on.

“Well, the old Duke is dead, along with his son. Joep Van Durren and his son got arse-fucked proper the word is. The First Foot licked hard, or destroyed, depending which missive one reads and what’s left is somewhere in the plaguin’ desert, eating sand with their teeth kicked in.”

“What will Antoon do to fix this?” Alistair asked him.

“Who knows? What he should have done was not fight Cofols on Eplas, but that ship has sailed wit the fuckin’ gold. The loot is gone. Hehe,” Lord Ruud tasted his wine, the cunning smile on his face totally inappropriate.

“What about the force from Midlanor?”

“Ah… them I haven’t seen mentioned, King Alistair. Do they even fucking exist, I wonder?”

“Then Raoz is lost,” The King hissed. “It is difficult to fathom.”

“I suppose had we all given a helping hand to the High King, perhaps the Khan’s horde could have been beaten back.”

“Regia is not part of this conflict, Lord Ruud,” Alistair replied. “Last I heard, Scaldingport wasn’t also. It came as a surprise.”

Lord Ruud stared at the nervous Nattas.

“You should fire your Master of Silence. Or, and excuse me suggestion Lord Nattas, have the man executed. He’s either incompetent, or busying himself on other matters. Now what these matters may be, is far from me to presume,” He snickered and Storm gulped, trying to figure out what the old Lord meant.

Other than him suggesting the King should have Storm killed that is.

“We had our own problems. Lord Nattas is being kept busy, trying to sort through them,” Alistair defended him.

Lord Ruud snorted, not convinced. “Was it Kelholt’s priests that burned your city? Because rumor is you have a bandit problem, on top of a missing heir, I pray he’ll be found.”

“Lucius is in the North,” Alistair grunted. “It will serve you well, dropping the matter Lord Ruud.”

The old Lord raised his hand. “It’s not me that’s bringing it up King Alistair, but it is the reason I’m here today. One of the reasons. I may not even make it back, the journey didn't agree wit me and these fools might take over. Gods help us,” Storm gulped down nervously and shifted in his seat, while the King clenched his jaw and eyed the old Lord suspiciously.

“Go on,” He rustled and Lord Ruud continued.

“The Crulls are putting pressure on Antoon to denounce Lucius. Vanzon supports this and so are the Est Ravns,” Ah, Storm thought, there you are. You sneaky bastards. “He wrote me twice this past month and there are whispers he writes to other Lords as well, both Issirs and Lorians. Both here and in Lesia. Sooner or later, the need for a win will force Antoon’s hand.”

What was he implying? Storm wondered.

“King Davidson is almost a relative through marriage,” Alistair snapped, not staring at his seething wife.

Ruud smirked not missing anything and twirled the wine in his goblet.

“Was, I believe is the more precise term and when it comes to relatives, King Alistair, I trust them as much as I can throw them. I have a brother in the High King’s council, he’s done fuck all for me lately.”

“Regia has an heir. The matter is exhausted, Lord Ruud,” Alistair said sternly and Ruud sighed.

“Well then, mine is on Eplas. Sir Gust,” He said and Storm blinked not expecting it. How had Scaldingport pulled that off? “He won a battle at Endless Dunes and cut off Eikenport from the Khan’s armies. Glory onto him and so forth, unless he messes it up. My son believes he can cut through problems with a blade. Let’s hope he finds no big rocks in the desert.”

Fuck.

“Will the High King reinforce him?” Alistair probed. “I assume that this is good news.”

“Scaldingport hasn’t revealed our success yet.”

Your success?

“Antoon will learn about it,” Alistair insisted. "Why the delay?"

“I don’t give a damn, is why,” Lord Ruud countered. “We can hold on our own and Antoon needs to grease my hand plenty and ask for my permission, if he wants those cunts from Midlanor to use Scaldingport. Since I don’t feel like it and having so many troops of another Lord trudging in my fields makes me nervous, I shall decline. The High King can transport his armies through the Straits. Which of course he can’t, seeing as the fleet is blockading Ri Yue-Tu and I’ve no ships to spare.”

That’s just fuckin’ great.

Nice mess Abrakas you piece of shite!

“Antoon may remember your refusal, when he recovers his armies,” Alistair warned him.

“I’m one and seventy years old,” Lord Ruud replied and put his goblet down. “By the time Antoon finds his arsehole I may be dead, but you’ll still be in trouble. This time though and at this fucking moment, Midlanor has the troops and the High King’s ear, which makes my proposal King Alistair…” Ruud sighed and stared at his son. The Knight had finished eating and was listening to their conversation a little bored, a worrying Storm noticed. “A godsend, provided we work out the kinks and bumps out first.”

You accursed old snake, Storm thought furious and glared at the unperturbed Sir Rik. Seeing nothing there, Lord Nattas frowned and then turned his eyes on the meek-faced Lady Janneke.

Hmm.

Abrakas cock rots in a cracked jar.

“What is it you propose, Lord De Weer?” King Alistair probed, hint of interest in his voice clear and Lord Ruud had told him.