The Axe and the Throne by M. D. Ireman

The Axe and the Throne by M. D. Ireman

Author:M. D. Ireman [Ireman, M. D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Publisher: M. D. Ireman
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00


CASSEN

The faint aroma of citrus and dandelion drifted through the room. Cassen took pride in his ability to exercise tasteful restraint, and the two solitary candles burning at either end of his grand dining table reminded him of his superiority to most men in that regard. Tasteful restraint in all things, save my silks. But Cassen had reason enough for all of his actions, even those contrary to his careful disciplines.

He had arranged for an intimate supper that was to be served shortly. He would be receiving a special guest, one whom he planned to charm with all the contrivances at his disposal. Food, wine, false flattery, these would all be served in careful portions tonight. Not too much wine, he reminded himself. It was important that his guest clearly remember the events of the night so that he did not awake the next day thinking it had all been a dream.

“Sir Collin to see you, Duchess.” The voice of one of his boy servants heralded the expected arrival.

The man who entered was no knight. He wore the simple brown cloth indicative of servantry, but he was too old to be under Cassen’s employ. He looked to be somewhere on the lower end between twenty and thirty years, with the body of a man but the face of a boy. I could never have male servants of such an age. People might form the wrong impressions. Cassen’s smirk did not reach his face.

“Sir Collin, welcome! And thank you for making the time to see me.” The more Cassen studied the man, the less he wanted to do what he had intended, but a little pride was a small price to pay, he resolved. Collin had a face so ordinary it bordered on being offensive. His chin was nonexistent, and his hair was a mess of short, brown ringlets, the strands of which clung together as if they had not been washed in some time. Even for a servant he seemed overly dowdy.

“Please, have a seat.” Cassen motioned to the empty chair at the far end of the table. Although not looking entirely comfortable with the situation, the man conceded, sitting across from Cassen separated by a good ten paces. “I assume you had a pleasant trip in spite of the distance. It is a lovely carriage, is it not? I had it sent from Rivervale and often use it myself. The carriages made here are simply inferior. Every pit and rock their wheels encounter do jolt one so. Gives my bones such an ache.” Cassen gave his guest no time to respond. “Can I offer you a drink? We have some Rivervalian Red, but the Sacaran Whiteleaf is by far the finer choice. I do believe I am the only one who has access to such a rare specimen, as it comes from ports far to the south with whom we no longer do trade.”

The man hesitated before responding. “I am sorry, I am not much of a wine man. Any mead or ale will do, or just some water.



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