Chương 53: Chapter 52: Promising Negotiations

++As I grew older, I became less and less the helpless leaf blown about on political winds. It was not until I neared adulthood that I exercised true, large-scale agency, but by puberty I was already… difficult to control. ++ - From the writings of Isabel Vornholt, 'The Great Lich'. 1, 891 A. E. Baron Agrian Vornholt the Elder, owner of the Lachfel Trading Company, Baron of more than five hundred acres and master of one of the older estates in all of Garamon, was feeling nervous.

He was feeling nervous because, despite his own anecdotes and accolades, he knew that he was to be meeting a larger name even than himself. It was not every day, after all, that one met up with Anvar Worfrey for a discussion of business and marriage. No, indeed, not every day that one sat down with the Duke of Wolsingham himself. Agrian's palms were sweating, and he tried to wipe them as subtly as he could. The young Duke chose then, of course, to open the door and step out to eye him.

He was a tall man whose appearance went well with the surroundings of his office; blonde hair to gilded curtains, pale skin to ivory panels and strong features to well-built furniture. His current attire was more dandy than soldier, which Agrian did not care for at all. This here was the grandson to one of Garamon's finest-ever military heroes, it seemed to him that the boy should be dressed a shade more practically.

But then, Agrian was aware he had never quite stopped being the colonel even after his time in the army ended. And the world's luminaries were never dressed inappropriately—just eccentrically.

"Pleasure to meet you, your Grace," Agrian smiled as he held his hand out and felt the boy's own close around it. He almost winced at the strength of the grip, it made his bones shiver. There were not many warriors of the fourth order in all of Garamon, and only a handful of the fifth. Now Agrian had met one of them. It was a stark reminder of where he stood in the grand pecking order of strength.

"You have quite the steady face," the Duke grinned as he relaxed his grip.

"Terribly sorry about that my Lord, but I couldn't help but sense the opportunity to see what you were made of with a bit of pain. Seemed pertinent considering what you're here to discuss, eh?" Agrian's fingers certainly bloody disagreed with how pertinent it was, but given that they were the fingers of a Baron rather than a Duke, gripping the hand of a Baron whose family was growing less popular in Parliament by the day, he elected to ignore them.

"Quite right," he managed to smile.

"Sit," the Duke suggested, though it sounded more like instruction, and took his own seat opposite the large desk at one corner. The same sort of wood as Agrian's, he noticed it was somehow both deep black and near-shining at once. Agrian was barely down in his chair before a glass thrust its way into his hand.

"That right there is over ninety percent alcohol," the Duke grinned.

"So you can enjoy the rare privilege of actually getting halfway drunk." He could not help but smile back. Damn him, but he liked this boy, and he was liking him even more by the time his warrior's body had finished draining the glass. Ninety percent indeed, even he felt somewhat buzzed.

"Now, Isabel," the boy began, not mincing words at all. Agrian could respect that.

"I've heard a lot about her, you know." That surprised him.

"Really?" The Duke's smile did not look nearly so friendly now.

"Oh yes. I may not be tied up with the magicians like you Vornholts, but—" —"we are not tied up with magician families, your Grace," Agrian hurriedly cut in. The Duke's eyebrows arched like Garamon bridge.

"Really, you think so? Interesting. So why are half of your children, including your eldest son, attending a magician Institute?" There really was not a good answer for that one.

"Hm," the Duke did not sound impressed suddenly.

"Well, as I was saying, though I do not have your affiliation with the Empire's magicians, I make sure to keep an ear to the ground. They hear all sorts, you know. It's always a good idea to keep them close." Agrian could not keep the surprise from his face, and the Duke laughed as he saw it.

"Oh yes, the grandson of the old warhorse himself, and I rub elbows with the magicians. Keep it to yourself, if you would, but you'll find I'm a great deal less traditional than the traditionalists would like me to be. Not that I'm going to stop racking in their support of course, it's been plenty helpful so far." If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. The Duke was odd, but damn him if Agrian did not find himself liking the man anyway.

"You are being candid," he grunted.

"May I be candid too?"

"Oh, I insist on it, my lord," the Duke kept smiling, though the intensity in his stare did not diminish.

"You have heard that warriors and magicians often have children who are either powerful warriors or powerful magicians, yes?" Agrian asked him. This was a touchy subject, especially among the nobility. Everyone knew it, and nobody wanted it known. If such a fact became commonly accepted then any warrior of great talent became a potential descendent of magicians. Fortunately, the Duke was as practical as Agrian had thought.

"That's your pitch, I take it?" he asked.

"I'm the most gifted warrior of five, maybe ten generations, and if I take Isabel as my wife I'll be giving my children the greatest jumping-off point possible for their own warrior's talents?" He'd put it rather matter-of-factly, and Agrian didn't find much to add himself.

"More or less," he said at last.

"Yes." The Duke refilled both their glasses, then promptly emptied his own.

"I am about to say some things, my lord, that will sound offensive, but are not intended to be, and are in fact merely true. Acknowledging these truths is necessary for us to have a productive conversation." Agrian bristled, but nodded.

"The Worfrey family is no older than the Vornholts, but it is a good one or two hundred times your wealth. We enjoy the friendship of many in Laugrey, and Parliament's most influential speakers are personal friends of mine, and my relatives. I am the most gifted warrior we have produced, but we have a long history of putting out skilled ones. My grandfather, you know, was the best of his generation. I am looking to be the best of the last dozen. And now this business about a war with Iruchi…

well, I think it would be safe to say we are considered the military family in Garamon, so it's hardly difficult to see how that will benefit us, is it? To put it bluntly; it is quite the hard sell to convince me I would be best served marrying your daughter into my house. I doubt I have to tell you that she is one of only many potential brides I have been offered, and most are rather… older than her." His lip curled at that, clearly not a man whose tastes went as young as Isabel.

That actually made Agrian rather more enthusiastic about the match.

"I'm just asking you to meet her for now," he pressed, eager but cautious of pushing too hard and ruining the chance for himself.

"Just see her. Talk to her…" he almost winced. Talking to Isabel would do nothing for the man's opinion of her.

"Just look at her magic, rather. The stories don't do it justice, did you know she was teaching herself how to manipulate mana before the age of three?" The Duke did not look shocked, and Agrian found out why a moment later.

"I would rather you not insult my intelligence with so obvious a lie, my lord," he replied coldly. Much of the friendliness had withered and died in the span of that single sentence.

"It's no lie," Agrian added hurriedly.

"I understand how absurd it sounds—believe me, I barely knew a thing about magic when I first found out and I still understood then—but it's all true. All I ask is that you meet with Isabel, and you can see for yourself." The Duke did not seem as offended now as he had been a few moments ago, but he was far from happy as he leaned back all the same.

"I get these offers non-stop you know," he murmured, seeming to speak more to himself.

"And I hate the ones with younger girls the most. Some little child I'm expected to look at and…" he seemed to realise he had company then, because the grin made its way back across his face as if the scowl had never been there at all.

"Ah, you'll have to forgive me my lord, a touch of melancholy I fear. Too much time spent cooped up here feeling sorry for myself, disastrous results." Agrian smiled, because the Duke of Wolsingham was smiling, but inside he felt his guts churning. What had he been about to say?

"If that was all," the boy continued, "then I shall see you out."

"Yourself?" Agrian was more than a little surprised, that was servant's work.

"I never served in the colonies, not yet," the boy grinned, "but grandfather did. He acquired a love of doing things himself that made its way down to my father, and now me. I am surprised you don't understand, my lord, being a colonial man yourself." Agrian again couldn't help but smile. He would have, no matter what, but damn it if this boy wasn't getting a couple of sincere reactions from him. He really did hope he took a liking to Isabel.

"Truth be told, I did," Agrian shrugged.

"I'm primarily just surprised to see it shared by another. Not many in, uh, our circles, eh?" The Duke's face fell, and he sighed.

"Oh I'd agree to that. Good thing, this bloody war with Iruchi, the aristocracy of Garamon are turning into one big pile of pomp. Here's to hoping this one straightens them out a bit… oh bugger it, another drink to that before I see you out!" Agrian left the office feeling odd. He did not get the impression he'd made much ground in that meeting, not really, but all the same he couldn't imagine it going any better.

The Duke was young, and clearly not the campaigner his grandfather had been, but he had a way of doing and saying all things that just oozed mastery. Agrian himself had gotten caught up in it. Was that how the common man felt around him? Probably not, they didn't have his sense of character for the most part. The carriage still awaited him outside the mansion, and Agrian made his way to it deep in thought. No, this hadn't gone well and it hadn't gone badly. It had just gone.

And maybe that was all he could have hoped for, a force like Anvar Worfrey did not seem like the sort to be moved by words alone. No, like Agrian himself he was a man of will and action. He would change his mind, once he saw Isabel and what she could do. Agrian knew that much. And when that happened, his daughter would be engaged to one of the most powerful men in Garamon. The carriage started rattling on down the road, cool air brushing by its windows, and Agrian smiled to himself.

"To the Winzorth Institute," he called ahead. He was in Garamon, if only on the business of seeing Duke Worfrey, there was no reason not to visit his children. It would be the last chance he had before the old bastard arrived anyway.