Robert sat in his great chair, glazing over the pile of letters and correspondence laid out on the accompanying desk. He was furiously writing, to whom and about what Edwin was not given the privilege of knowing.
After filling the parchment with ink, nearly draining all the ink in the inkwell, he blew on each line. Content with the dryness of the words, he carefully folded the letter and poured hot wax at the center of the fold, then stamped his sigil on it, leaving a bull imprint to dry.
"You called for me?" Edwin cleared his throat to alert his father to his presence.
Robert remained gazing at his clutter of papers, picking up another, seemingly at random, to read and respond to.
Edwin took the time to relax his aching muscles. Issac, who had been spending more and more time at the keep these last two years, had been training him in the use of polearms. More like how to get a beating from an old man, Edwin grimaced at the memory of the sticks' impact. Even armored in stuffed leathers and padding, Isaac's powerful blows had managed to bring forth more than a dozen new bruises on Edwin's body.
Robert groaned as he crumpled a piece of paper and tossed it on the floor. "I think bureaucracy exists just to drive old men like me mad, my son." He said, leaning back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. "Come here and tell me what you think of this madness."
Edwin rounded the desk to stand behind his lord-father; the paper centered on the desk was unmistakable as that of a higher lord.
"A tax increase? The realm has been at peace; what reasons could warrant such a dramatic increase?" To answer Edwin's question, Robert placed a second paper upon the first with evident disdain. Few words were recorded upon it; instead, it was a drawing, a blueprint so large and fantastical as to not belong to this world.
Robert, in a single fluid gulp, killed the wine cup he had been nursing before refilling it. "A cathedral." He spat out the last word like a curse.
Edwin was stumped. The expense seemed unnecessary; they were already a world-renowned one in the capital. Why build another?
"Well, no matter, my son, I called you here for a separate matter." The tone of disappointment shifted to a jovial one almost instantly. "Tell me what you know of Duke Talbot of Blychester."
John Talbot was a well-renowned man, even across the sea on the continent; his name held sway. Pious and Ruthless Edwin thought to himself. Talbot had undergone a pilgrimage to the holy city itself, gaining experience in the crusades of the Orient, and was also known for utterly devastating Duke Merdan's lands during the rebellion.
Edwin stood up straight and confident, like his mother said, "Duke Talbot, ardent supporter of the King, known for his Piousness, skill in arms, and immense wealth. He is our direct liege, as well as most of that of Northern Anlett." He knew more, but Edwin knew Robert had little patience for such things.
Robert laughed, "I see you're taking your lessons with Stuart seriously. Yes, John is all of those things, even I am intimidated by him." Robert stood and walked over to the window, gazing out over the village below.
The silence was deafening. Edwin knew this conversation was going somewhere, but his patience was wearing thin. Stay silent and watch, that's how you stay five moves ahead. Edwin repeated Stuart's words in his head. He had to give it to the man; he was a master of chess.
"You're seven now," Robert stated, but once again drew silent, as if not believing it himself.
Robert stiffened his shoulders and finally turned to face Edwin. "I've decided it's time you begin the next stage of your tutelage."
The words hung in the air, Edwin not sure of what he meant, Robert all too aware of the future. "When I went to war, I made many friends, and I ensured our house would once again have a future. We no longer wallow in debt, but nor do we swim in riches. I would have this house rise again. It may take ten generations, but it will happen. In two days, Duke Talbot will arrive with his retinue. Should he be impressed by you, he shall take you on as a page, then a squire." Robert downed another cup of wine, "When he arrives, you will do your utmost to impress him with your prospects. I will broker no deeds that make this house look bad, you will do this, son."
Gone was the easy-going humor of his father, replaced by a new, scary emotion Edwin had never seen his father have. Ambition, Edwin knew it at once, his father was placing house Sonders' future in the arms of a Seven-year-old.
With a curt, well-practiced bow, Edwin excused himself from his father. He would do as his father asked. He would do more than his father asked.
House Sonder, old and proud, will rise again. I will see it so.
John Talbot would arrive in two days, in forty-two hours; Edwin would have to be fully prepared to impress the duke. Forty-two hours would be enough; it would have to be enough. Edwin was already forming his plan in his mind.
Edwin was beside himself with emotion, a bad mix of excitement, anxiety, joy, and what he could only assume was dread. He had work to do, but one thing had to be fixed above all others.
The Chapel was a small, sad thing, too small to serve the tiny population of Sonder Village. A small carved wooden Y positioned above the only door into the chapel seemed to glisten in the sunlight, as if it were made of the most polished silver. Arnald, his chaperone, whenever he was allowed outside the keep, which had become more so since the incident two years ago, stood at a respectful distance behind him.
God was not something he had put much faith in. Coming from a different planet can do that to you, Edwin spoke almost mockingly. But he was out of ideas. Theda had given him the only idea he hadn't tried, not properly at least.
"Time to Banish Mathias."