Chương 171: Power

I had one last meeting at the end of our last day here. I returned to my hall and found Cuthward waiting by the brazier, sitting in a chair. He was the only one here.

"Sorry I'm late," I told him. I dropped down in a chair opposite to him, and I slumped down, arms off to the side, slouching. A moment later, my eyes went wide, and I realized what I'd done. I straightened up, fixing my posture and sitting properly. A proper thegn wouldn't present himself as a slovenly college student arriving early for a morning lecture, I knew that much.

"No worries, my boy," Cuthward said.

"You had a long day, I take it?"

"Yeah." I pressed my hands down on my thighs.

"Nothing terribly taxing, but…I didn't think I would have to make this many decisions in just two days. I didn't think it would be this hard." I paused.

"But you're not here to listen to me complain."

"I am a seer by trade. It is my purpose to help people through their hard times." Cuthward looked out the hall's windows. It was already dark outside, though it didn't even feel that late. I inclined my head.

"The Warlord has his own supply of special seers who work with the fleshknitters, doesn't he?"

"Correct. However, I wouldn't call them my brothers. They are necessary to create Dupes, to guide a soul into a body and animate it. But they have long since abandoned the main purpose of our Path." I lowered my head.

"I wish I had something more to say, but I haven't heard enough about Seers to really know. At least we don't have to worry about Jaruwain anymore." I paused.

"Alas, I don't really have time to let you do your…seer-y stuff in my brain. Whatever it is that you do."

"Most commonly, we help Path-walkers with their advancements—looking into their souls, helping them find their sources of willpower, and more. For the common folk, we can still look into their souls and provide them guidance, of course, but it is only for them to improve their lives in the ways they can as a mortal, to lead them to a fulfilled existence."

"How much free time will you have, then? I assume you'll be resuming your seer duties at the temple?"

"Until I find a replacement, yes. It may be a few years until I can find someone suitable for the role. Even then, I doubt I could put down the robes and stop helping where I saw a need for it."

"Would you be willing to act as the portreeve for a short time?" I asked him hesitantly.

"I know it's short notice, but I need someone I can trust to run things while I'm gone, to carry out my orders. People trust you and will follow you, and they'll do what you tell them without requiring any force." Cuthward inhaled slowly and said, "I was expecting a new appointee from the Warlord. It will be likely, given that you executed the last one."

"True. I was expecting to face scrutiny for executing Tunmod," I replied.

"Perhaps I would have to take part in a trial-joust, but…"

"Trial-jousts are only for Ealdormen," he reminded me. I had already known that, though I didn't say anything. I wanted to get Cuthward to spill a little bit more about what he knew about the greater political systems of the world, and to reassure myself that he was the right person to put in charge.

"But they are a slap on the wrist. If the Warlord truly wants you gone, he would try harder."

"He wanted Lord Ceonwin gone pretty badly, considering the schemes he cooked up. But he still went with a trial-joust." With how he'd tried to frame Ceonwin for the murder of a messenger, the Warlord hadn't really been pulling any punches.

"The Warlord is bound by some of the bureaucracy his line created," Cuthward said.

"It would reflect poorly on him if he didn't give Lord Ceonwin a slap on the wrist first. These are the games he must play to remove a well-liked Ealdorman. You, however…" I nodded along.

"Alright, so no trial-joust for me. What about the Warlord's ability to assign a portreeve? Tunmod was his appointee?"

"Tunmod was Hinlaw's appointee. Not every portreeve is put in place by the Warlord." I massaged my forehead. I could just hear Anchor complaining that I hadn't thought about this enough beforehand—even if he wasn't here right now. Well, my mental version of Anchor was wrong. I had considered that retribution would come. The problem was that I couldn't do anything to improve this land without removing Tunmod first.

The second issue was that I did need to defeat and remove Hinlaw from power sooner than later, and take over his Domain. My broader plans could come later, though. I was still working on those. Right now, I had to worry more about who would stay in charge of Hyrdford and the surrounding lands. I continued, "Alright, but I take it I've caused enough trouble here that the Warlord, hoping to send me a warning, will actually appoint a portreeve to Hyrdford this time?

As the same time, he'll be looking for any way to disgrace me and remove me from power before I get too uppity?" Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

"Correct, on account of the portreeve." Cuthward leaned back in his chair.

"I think you, perhaps, overestimate how often the Warlord thinks of you. He likely hasn't even heard your name, yet. He knows there is a thegn stirring up trouble, and he will send a portreeve to quell you. He won't see the need to micro-manage you yet."

"And if I don't accept this new portreeve, that's when I'll be in trouble?"

"Precisely."

"So then you'll take the position until this new portreeve arrives," I said.

"I need you to find all the laws Tunmod made, giving himself immense power, and destroy them. Would you be willing?" I wouldn't trust many people to voluntarily give up their powers, but Cuthward was a seer and an innkeeper first, and a politician second. He'd seen what Tunmod's laws could do.

"I'm no scholar," Cuthward warned.

"But you know more about these systems than most. I need you to remove most of the Portreeve's power," I told him.

"When the Warlord's appointee arrives, we can't let him interfere with our plans. He'll just be a toothless figurehead." Cuthward dipped his head.

"I could do that, my boy. But then who would lead? Someone needs to have executive power."

"Those…powers would default to me." I winced, knowing how it sounded. I was going to make myself supreme ruler of these lands?

"The portreeve would be a steward, with no real ability to put laws into place or change the course of my lands. Meanwhile, to keep things running, we need to put regional power into the hands of the people who need it. You won't have long, but I need you to create councils of freemen. This land already has subdivisions, right? Say, every fifty Hides of land has its own council, and they will each choose a minor reeve of their own."

"... Choose?"

"They will vote," I said.

"The people will pick their own leaders?" Cuthward gulped.

"How can we trust them to pick well?" I paused. That was no guarantee, true.

"We need to make sure voters care about their little regions. They'll only be allowed to vote if they've served in the local guards, or are currently serving. They don't need massive powers, but they need enough to be self-sufficient without a hulking central government." It was another risk. The guards may have been more likely to favour Tunmod, considering he would've appointed them in the first place. On the other hand, he would've brought most of his loyal guards with him to the festival, who we'd killed.

Anyone left in the countryside was likely not too fond of him. Besides, we would have plenty of new guards in the coming weeks, who I could guarantee would be favourable to me and would pick minor reeves who thought likewise. Cuthward was silent for a few seconds. He poked the embers in the brazier with a stoking rod.

"How long have you thought about this?"

"Not long enough," I replied.

"But it's the only solution that comes to mind." I tried to use my Art to visualize what would happen. I targeted the air outside the hall, then triggered a swell of gravity. At the same time, the visualization techniques embedded in the Art triggered. But it was meant for battlefields. Not for generally seeing the future. I could imagine how a formation would crumble, or what outcome a tactic would reasonably lead to. I couldn't just picture how forming tiny councils across my land would affect things.

I didn't know the people well enough to guarantee that it would work. On the other hand, I didn't have much of a choice. If I appointed the most important freemen, the ones I had just met with, as minor reeves, I would just be appointing Tunmod's lackeys.

"I will carry out your orders, then," Cuthward told me.

"If you believe it to be the best course of action, then so be it. You have done well for us, and I will do as you say. Perhaps it is the will of the Path. I assume you will be keeping some powers for yourself?"

"I'll outline what specific powers these minor reeves should have," I said.

"Nothing more, nothing less. I'll keep only what I have to."

"Remember, my boy," Cuthward said, "Power itself is neither good nor evil. That is found in the hearts of those who wield it. Good men cannot shy away from wielding it, because if not them, then who?"

"Y—yeah." I didn't know how else to respond. He was right, of course, but it was awfully similar to how Frythlid had justified her overreaches. Still, I knew what I had to do. The road to hell may have been paved with good intentions, but doing nothing would lead us to the same place. I did need to wield some power.

"Thank you," I added with a sigh.

"I'll leave instructions. You'll probably have a few months before the newly appointed portreeve arrives. Make sure you strip away most of your position's powers by then." I stood up, then stepped back.

"I didn't think it would be so difficult."

"The Path drops the greatest burdens on the backs of its favourites," Cuthward said.

"Take solace knowing it thought you were capable."

"Maybe."

"Either your back breaks, or it snaps into place. Then, you will carry its burdens with ease—and then some." ~ ~ ~ The next morning, as the rest of my squad prepared our horses to leave, Sage and Morph approached me. Morph was in his regular form—a seven-foot golem made of branches and vines, with a flat face of wood. He carried her under one arm.

"Levi, Morph and I have been working on something these past few days," she said.

"In between tending to the injured and traumatized, of course." I tilted my head.

"What is it?" She clicked her tongue. Morph unfolded his second arm, the one not holding Sage, revealing a row of sprouts growing out of his wrist and palm. Unlike the other sprouts, they had glowing orange leaves.

"I have been researching an Art like this for a while," Sage said.

"[Engineered Flora]. Only now have I had the Presence and maegen to attempt it, and…I will admit, I have been using some of the potion water and the ground-up mulch where the majority of the gophers were buried. Combining that with a few runic formations for sonic manipulation…"

"I don't really have a lot of time for explanations," I told her.

"I have one more important meeting I need to attend before I leave."

"Take one with you," she said.

"Their leaves are soaked in Path-resonance and locked in sequence with each other, since they grew together. If you speak into the leaves, they will tremble, vibrating at frequencies to match your voice. And since all of them tremble in lockstep…it can transmit your voice to any of the plants, no matter where in the world it is."

"It's a biological telephone?"

"Hm?"

"Oh. Right. I'll explain on the way back."

"We will need to plant them at even intervals along the way," Sage said.

"And they won't survive the winter. But it will let you communicate with your land when we return to Castle Urcia."