As Valric already read, the prince was at the top of the list, looking more like an example of 'no' than an advertisement.
From the description, Halvar was on point. Even seven years ago.
His brother's description was right; there was a decent balance of nobles from south and north. An Earl, two lords of castles, one a widower.
Valric and Tor watched Leoric too closely, noticing how he studied the page and it grated at him.
He was curious. Though, if he was judged very much like the rest of the men on this page, he would probably be ranked next to the prince in recommendation. Reluctantly, he read on:
07) DUKE LEORIC KARSYN (HARROWFEN)
Temper: B (controlled / sharp when cornered)
Ambition: High (but not foolish)
Faith: B (thinks before he kneels)
Crown-Lean: Opposed (conflict inevitable)
Wife's Rule: — (unknown)
Private Conduct: A (doesn't "perform" at home)
Leverage: B (pride / principles)
Risk: Low/Fatal (safe from him; unsafe because of what he stands against)
Note: Dangerous. Not because he is cruel—because he is sharp.
Most probably impossible due to our family relations—understandably.
It was a fair assessment. Yet it bothered him how well Halvar seemed to know him despite not infiltrating his staff. Leoric—and mostly Kaly—was scrutinous of anyone they hired for the castle, not wanting a repeat of Karsyn Manor.
Even after reading it over twice, Leoric found himself analysing the words. Looking for a deeper meaning. Trying to work out where and when Halvar would've got his answers.
"So?" Valric finally punctured the silence and Leoric handed it back as if it didn't bother him.
"He's right about one thing," Leoric tossed the remark while scanning the desk for anywhere else to settle his eyes.
"Well he's wrong about the 'not foolish' part. If it has danger bells on it, you're more than happy to charge head first," Valric commented.
"Very much like his Mrs' I'm afraid," Tor joined in. "Probably why they ended up together, they're a storm of trouble, ye know."
"Think of the kids," Valric smirked.
He always managed to find enjoyment out of everything. No matter how far he had to dig.
"I'd say he didn't nail your temper though. You're more of a brewing summer storm—relentless and unforgiving."
Leoric didn't know why he let the two get in a room together. They were as bad as each other and together they were ten times worse.
An annoyed growl slipped from the back of his throat, which only proved them right.
"I'm quite surprised he didn't rate your 'Wife's Rule' on here," Valric said as if he hadn't just started stirring the tempest. "He knows the Marquess sleeps with his maids, but he doesn't know a thing about your flirtations with the lasses?" His brow quirked in a humoured way, stating he didn't buy it.
Tor chuckled and Leoric glanced at Rhosyn to make sure they hadn't woken her. It'd do no good with the topic these two decided to entertain themselves with. It'd only cause her to put her walls up again and he'd have to spend another month or two trying to get her to open up again. She was a fortress. One that he'd managed to be invited into. He didn't need the chuckling brother-in-law's to get him evicted.
"I meant the 'Risk' category…" Leoric cut them off before they could bring up any stories.
He could see how much they were enjoying themselves, winding him up and getting a kick. But it'll do none of them any good if Rhosyn got hurt by their words.
Tor was right—he was a summer storm, relentless and unforgiving.
"Hmm… I don't think Halvar is right about everything," Valric offered, chewing on the words as much as he chewed on the inside of his cheek.
The man Rhosyn trusted most, named him fatal. For his nonalignment with the crown, the feud between their people, the inevitable conflict he'd cause. Leoric had told Rhosyn himself that war was coming, and he'd be the one leading the charge.
Halvar had seen it coming, read the board and accessed… So it bothered him that his name was written on a piece of paper when he was the catalyst.
Though half the names suggested were terrible choices and Leoric wondered how much choice she ever really had in the end. Definitely a lot less by the time she'd come upon the letter. Nearly all the men on the list had been married or at least engaged by now. Surprisingly, himself and the prince probably were the only two legible candidates left on the list—which didn't boast well. And if she had come upon the letter earlier, who would've she chosen?
A snap split the silence, a log cracking in the fireplace, dimming the room as if sensing Leoric's mood. He'd put off reading the contents of Halvar's safe because he knew it'd move the game along. They'd be a lot closer to declaring war and it'd take him away from Rhosyn.
The king wanted her dead. Wanted her land as if she was an expendable resource. It was the reason he'd let her marry Leoric in the first place. He didn't plan on her staying alive long enough to benefit from whatever alliance she might've made.
Leoric wondered if she could survive him. If he could keep her safe.
Charcoal tinged the air as Valric stoked another log, bringing light back to the room. Tor pondered the papers sprawled across the desktop, almost bored. Sweeping out a page they'd jotted down decoded messages on, eyes scanning it mildly interested. Maybe he was just avoiding Leoric's mood—he wouldn't blame him.
A light hum vibrated from Tor's chest.
"What is it?" Valric tossed over his shoulder from the fireplace.
"Just interesting..." Tor barely offered an explanation, still staring lost at the message.
Valric crossed the room, peering around the lanky man's shoulder. Leoric continued to decode another letter, though his eyes were tired and his head hurt with a headache he was sure the brother-in-laws gave him.
"Elswyn..." Tor mused on the name. "I had a cousin called Elswyn—though no one talks about her." He shrugged as if it was a curious thought he was caught on. "Uncle used to mutter that he should've never let her leave the north."
Elswyn. The name echoed in Leoric's mind as if important.
"Yeah, that's the list of women who bore the king's bastards," Valric clarified the page they contemplated. It was something he'd decoded. "Elswyn bore my older half-brother, Nikkai." He pointed at names on a page Leoric couldn't see.
"Coincidental," Tor attested, unbothered.
Leoric leaned over, hoping spying the names would click the final cogs in his head. Valric's handwriting had never been neat, let alone legible. Leoric contemplated the shape of the name, trying to work out the familiarity he felt with it.
A whisper of noise tugged at his awareness. Movement beyond the door and he tried to ignore it. Then a light tap at the door demanded his attention.
He sighed, the thought lost. "Come in, Kaly," he called and the door promptly opened.
She surveyed the room in one sweeping glance, reading tension, mood and marvelling at Rhosyn asleep. Probably due to the noisiness the brother-in-law duo always drummed up.
Kaly didn't miss a step as she bridged the gap. "Two letters came for you and your wife, Your Grace."
She held them out which Leoric took swiftly, setting one on the desk, which Valric curiously plucked up. Kaly's eyes slipped to Rhosyn again, a hint of concern creeping into her features. She did look a little paler than normal and the chill hadn't fully left her despite the blanket he'd draped over her.
Leoric shook his head, turning his attention to the letter in his hands and froze.
The Great Seal.
His fingers hovered over the blood red sigil; crown adorning an upward point sword over the quartered shield symbolising—north, south, river and divine right. Three subdued animals; Karsyn's raven, Valewyn's Heron and Greycombe's wolf.
Border inscribed: 'Per Legem Coronae.' Meaning—By the Crown's Law. Another bastardisation, Alestan tainted the kingdom with. The original inscription was 'The Law Holds the Crown.' But the corrupt king couldn't answer to anyone.
The wax was flecked with gold. Not ceremonial—final.
A part of Leoric wanted to burn it. Pretend they'd never receive it. But that was a fool's way—to dodge an official royal decree. Besides, knowledge was power. He'd rather know what they were facing.
Tor and Kaly remained waiting, watching him as he broke the seal. Thick, quality paper unfolded and the damned words of a tyrant danced prettily across the page.
BY ROYAL DECREE
Let it be known that Lady Rhosyn Valewyn of Ravelocke is hereby required to surrender herself into the custody of the Crown without delay, to answer charges laid before the realm, namely:
I. High Treason, by acts and correspondence injurious to the peace of the Kingdom;
II. Conspiracy against the Crown, including attempted violence against the person of the Crown Prince;
III. Conspiracy to Commit Murder, concerning peers and servants of the realm, to wit:
— House Karsyn
— House Rhenald
— House Merrow
Any lord, lady, bannerman, officer, or household who harbours, aids, conceals, or provides passage to the said Lady Valewyn shall be held answerable under the same charge, and shall forfeit protections of law and rank until judgement is rendered.
By the Hand and Seal of His Royal Majesty, Alestan Vaudren, King of Aramor.
Silence rang in his ears. The words staring back at him like a trap and an axe. The king was twisting their arms behind their backs, while seizing Ravelocke in the form of a woman—his wife.
Lord Merrow must've forged support. While the King had given Merrow the cleanest excuse a vulture could want. A trade to dismantle a title.
Alestan had already decided she was guilty—of anything. Anything to get his hands on her land. To remove one more mind he was scared of. To drive one more dagger into Leoric. He was using this as an example—that he could take as he liked, like always.
Tension bled from Leoric. A quiet rage. The room shied from it. Hollowed out by his wrath.
He could feel Kaly shrink and Tor straighten in response.
"You're not going to like this, Leo," Valric's voice strained. It seemed he hadn't noticed the tone shift.
Leoric's glare shifted to Valric's imploring eyes. Letter held out bearing Alderwyck's seal.
"The king has arrested all the staff at Ravelocke Estate. They've ransacked the building and interrogated the staff," Valric explained the commotion written across the page. "Lord Beric Aldermere writes that Lord Merrow has all but seized control. They're—"
Leoric dropped his letter atop the desk, pausing Valric. The Great Seal burning golden in the firelight.
"They've declared war. Raise the banner." Leoric's eyes slid to Rhosyn, still sound asleep. "And whatever you do—don't tell her."