The Elder Lands

Lucan stood at the window of his father’s study, facing the open air. A Spring breeze caressed his face, carrying dust and pollen with it. The snow was already melting around their territory. People were abandoning the lethargy of winter for the energetic activities of Spring. Already, he could see residents moving in the bailey this early in the morning, and if he could see the fields on the other side of the canal more clearly, he knew he would be able to see the farmers out and about.

A burning sensation suddenly bloomed in his eye. “Damn it.” He closed it and held it with his hand. It always happened that pollen got in his eyes in the Spring.

He heard the door opening behind him and turned around to find Thomas instead of his father. “Thomas,” he greeted. “Where’s father? I thought he would be waiting for me.”

“He should be coming soon,” Thomas said. “I believe he’s in the cellars.”

Lucan nodded and walked to meet Thomas at the table. “Has the work begun?”

“Yes.” Thomas nodded sagely. “It’s a little muddy and the work is strenuous for the laborers, but it’s underway.”

“Better to begin now than later, even if it will take additional effort,” Lucan said. “How long will it take?”

“Longer than expected,” Thomas said. “The expert from Mirefield said that it will take at least a year, if we’re fortunate.”

They’d sent for an expert from Arpague but had eventually had to bring one from Mirefield, since the town was surrounded by marshes and its people had the most experience with digging waterways.

“That long?” Lucan said, surprised. He’d known it would take longer than the road. But after they’d picked out the plots of arable land that to dig the canals through, he’d thought the undertaking modest enough that it would take less than a year. Particularly, because they’d decided not to expand the canals too much when they only needed arable land for four hundred people. They’d settled on what seemed to be enough land for more than six hundred to ward against mistakes in their estimate.

Digging more would be a waste of time currently, Lucan had surmised, and they could always expand the canals if needed. Thomas had already told him that some of the second and third sons of farmers in their existing villages were open to the opportunity, and he’d been thinking of hastening with said expansion. But this news would force him to postpone any thoughts of further expansion.

Thomas nodded, his countenance as flat as ever. “We will need one channel that will split out from the main canal and then lead back into it downstream. Then we will need to branch even narrower channels from it.”

“I see,” Lucan said. “I wond–”

He was interrupted by the door opening again, then his father walked into the study.

Lucan and Thomas faced and greeted him respectfully. “Father.” “Master.”

He’d had a hard time with his father for the past few months, considering the difficulties he’d caused him. His father had been harder than usual lately, sometimes sharp in his retorts and sometimes ignoring his presence entirely. Lucan hoped that he could remedy that by fixing the estate’s problems. His father was, after all, justified in his discontent.

Sir Golan nodded and joined them at the table. He eyed Lucan and asked, “the three men-at-arms arrived yesterday from Sir Bourke’s estate. Have you met them?”

“No, Father,” Lucan said. “Not yet.”

“You shouldn’t delay such matters,” his father said. “Your men ought to know, admire, and respect you. An early impression is important. I’ve tested them. They’re good men, as expected of Sir Bourke’s trainees.”

Lucan nodded. “Yes, Father.”

His father turned to Thomas. “How bad is it?”

“After the expenses of arming the new arrivals,” Thomas said, ”I expect us to end up with no more than a hundred and fifty gold in the treasury. Thankfully,” he glanced at Lucan, “there are no imminent expenses of any significance to be expected.”

Lucan winced. It had been eight months since his Blessing when he’d visited the treasury and it had contained four hundred gold. The expenses since then had mostly been because of him. Flagstones for the road, refraining from selling the old stockpile; those were the main culprits of their dilemma, and they were both because of his rash venture. He’d fix it though. It was, as his father had put it, his responsibility.

Sir Golan nodded. “Very well, it appears we won’t need to go into debt this soon.” He glanced at Lucan. “At least until we return from the King’s gathering.”

Lucan nodded. By then, they’d be out of food for his laborers, and it would still be a few months until grain harvest. Unfortunately, that meant that they’d have to spend their coin on getting food or risk starvation and worse striking a portion of their population.

Already, the hunter and his helpers had cleared out most of the predators from the forest, and they’d be hunting prey animals from now on. They couldn’t also drive those into annihilation, since they needed a certain population of prey animals in their part of the forest if they didn’t want to be entirely bare. Yet, his plan had already borne results. Hares were the most affected prey by the absence of predators. Their population had at least doubled according to Blake the hunter. The larger prey animals took longer to increase their populations, but there was still a noticeable improvement. Even with the increase, though, it would only fulfill the needs of the refugees for so long. Thomas had estimated that they’d face problems in the early middle of Summer.

“Lucan.” He was brought out of his thoughts by his father’s voice, and it didn’t sound as though that was the first time he’d called his name.

“Yes, Father?” Lucan snapped his eyes to his father’s face.

His father’s lips pressed together. “There’s a matter that we must discuss before our journey to Eldham.”

Lucan lowered his head, nodding for his father to continue.

“There’s been word that the King intends to make his second son, Prince Dane Baroun, the crown prince,” his father said. “I intend to speak to him about the matter. We will support an adherence to customs and traditions. The first son ought to inherit his father’s titles.”

Lucan raised a brow. All the time he’d heard his father speak of politics, it’d been in solid support of the King. He’d thought that he would support the King’s position in anything, at least within reason. “Do we have grievances with Prince Dane?” he asked. It would make sense if his father was worried about having a hostile liege in the future.

“No.” His father shook his head. “We’re doing this upon Lord Zesh’s request.”

Then his father proceeded to explain to him the convoluted web of politics between the King and Duke Elmere of Arpague, and how the latter was clawing for more influence in the capital. The Duke was a fringe descendant of the Royal Family. Lucan understood why the King was wary of letting him gain more power in the capital. He could someday leverage it to establish a claim for the throne for his descendants or even himself.

“Why are we getting in the middle of such conflict?” Lucan said, perplexed. “We risk getting on the bad side of a lot of people, including the King himself, Father.”

“I know,” his father said, looking at him meaningfully. “However, it’s worth it for us.” His voice suddenly became fainter. “There’s an opportunity for our station to rise in the coming years if the King sees reason…”

Lucan perked up. Was his father saying what he thought him to be saying? Discussion about possibly becoming lords hadn’t happened that long ago. It had happened between Winton and Lucan, and it appeared it had been discussed between his father and Lord Zesh too. Yet his father already had plans for it? He wasn’t surprised that he wanted it. His father wasn’t an ambitious man, but he was a dutiful one, and his grandfather had entrusted him with raising their station to that of a noble house of their own.

“We could…?” Lucan left the question unasked.

His father nodded gravely. “Lord Zesh has also provided you an opportunity. We will stop at Arpague on our way, where you are to go through the Trial.”

Lucan widened his eyes in disbelief. “The Trial?” he asked. Its fame was farther reaching than House Elmere itself, and Lucan had always heard of how difficult it was to gain admittance to its novelty. Word had it that it was a brief affair, mostly without risks. But its rewards were significant, for mages more than most, yet it would still be a great boon for him. If what he’d heard was true, then anyone could come out of it with more Vital Orbs than they’d entered, provided they performed up to par.

It seemed that their journey to the capital would carry more excitement than he’d imagined, whether on the way or at their very destination.