Chapter 1299: Carrion Raven(2)
Withholding further protest to the King’s explicit wishes, Lucius gave a curt, low nod.
"I’ll have my men do what they can, but it is not fit to expect a common rat to overhear the cat’s private musings," the spymaster replied.Of course in his voice being no seat for hope of finding anything.
"I trust you’ll bring what you are able to bring with the resources at your disposal," Alpheo countered, stepping back into the weak circle of candlelight. "There has not been a single time in fifteen winters that you have truly disappointed me."
"Yet," the Carrion Raven whispered.
"Be that as it may, you still have not," the King replied, a sharp prickle of irritation clipping his words.
He was thoroughly irked by the man’s pessimism. What manner of man constantly doubted his own flawless work and achievements?
"And I expect to have many more years of good service from you yet," the King added, expecting his spymaster to simply nod, accept the praise unenthusiastically, and wait for his dismissal.
Instead, the vulture piped up, his posture shifting slightly beneath his heavy dark cloak.
’’Your grace, if I may?’’
The king arched an highbrow. That was queer, the man usually did not stay in the same room with him unless needed.
’’You may.’’
He allowed. Though he regretted it next.
"I believe I was distinctly promised a deadline, Your Majesty," Lucius said, his raspy voice cutting through the damp chill of the room. "You promised me, under a clear sky, my total retirement after ten years of continuous service to your crown. You spoke to me plainly, and you made a solemn oath of that matter.I hope you have not forgotten?"
The King blinked, his lips pursing into a tight, hard line as he stared at his master of shadows.Now that was a matter he misliked. "Aye. I recall. But three winters is not ten, Lucius. And seven are yet to come."
"They do," Lucius allowed, his ink-stained fingers resting still on the table. "But you also specifically said I would be given a bright young ward to teach my ways, so that the boy might seamlessly take over my dark dealings after I am finally done with mine."
"I did promise that," the King said, dropping the letter back onto the ironwood with an authoritative thud. "What of it?"
"Three years have passed since that oath, and yet I am still very much in need of a ward."
"And seven more are to come," Alpheo reminded him once more, his voice brooking little argument "I would have expected a master of spies to be better acquainted with the virtue of patience than anyone else in this palace. Do not fret. When the exact right time arrives, you will be given your ward, and you will be given your peace. Until then, you owe a good, undivided service to your King."
"And what exactly will my King require of me next?"
The words were curt enough to border on insolence, but Alpheo had dealt with the man long enough to feel the deep, simmering displeasure running beneath them. Any other sovereign might have grown fearful of a spymaster’s hidden anger, but not Alpheo. Lucius was an exceptionally smart man, and above all, he was a pragmatic one. He realized perfectly well that bringing any harm or betrayal to the crown would instantly mean bringing a swift, bloody end to his own family. He was a high lord now, with a comfortable estate and a wife who would hopefully bring a son into the world soon. Why burn all of that security away with the madness of kingslaying? And for what?Revenge?
He had made the man rich!
And besides, what actual use would treason bring him that seven short winters of patience would not?
"Revenge, some would call it.Justice, others," Alpheo replied, his dark eyes glinting.
"And what does the King call it?"
The King shrugged. "Politics."
"I suppose it has everything to do with the Prince of Sharjaan?" Lucius ventured.
As he spoke, a stray curl of dirty-blonde hair fell ahead of his eyes. The spymaster pushed the strand rudely to the side with a black-tipped finger.
"We had a sacred covenant with him, signed in blood and ink, and the bastard spat directly upon it," Alpheo said, his jaw tightening as the memory of the betrayal flared. "I had already trusted the man very little before the war, and for exceptionally good reason. But now that he has openly betrayed my terms, actions must be taken. The south must learn what happens to those who break faith with Yarzat."
"May I then ask what precise orders do you have for me, then?" Lucius asked.
"Find a way to open up a seat within the Sharjaan court," Alpheo commanded, his voice cold and flat. "I do not care how you do it, nor what manner of resources or blood-stained tools you choose to employ. You can take off your velvet gloves completely for this one, Lucius, so long as the job gets done."
Lucius raised a single, sharp eyebrow. "You must be remarkably serious about this, then."
"More than anything," the King agreed, leaning over the table. "Once the path is thoroughly cleared and the seat is open, we will plant Marcus right into the center of it. There he will wait for further orders."
There must have been something incredibly unwelcome in those words, for the spymaster’s expression soured instantly, his thin lips twitching more than usual.
"Marcus?" Lucius rasped.
"Aye. I am entirely certain you are familiar with the man’s work."
The King’s jest brought absolutely nothing to Lucius’s face. "Your Majesty, Marcus is already deployed on an different assignment. A rather long, delicate endeavor..."
"I am sure someone else can take his place well enough," Alpheo countered smoothly. He did not recall giving the man any important mission. "Ebran’s work with the border tribesmen is completely finished, is it not? Surely he is free to handle it."
"I was actually planning to send Ebran into Sharjaan to lay the initial groundwork for court access," Lucius explained, his tone laced with a supervisor’s deep exhaustion.
"There must be hundreds of men at your service in the dark, Lucius. Don’t tell me you cannot find a single competent replacement?"
"Not a single soul with Marcus’s specific skillset, Your Majesty, without disastrously pulling them out of another vital theater. Almost all of my agents are already stretched dangerously tight," Lucius argued, his raspy voice rising slightly. "We may be hundreds, sire, but you always seem to have a thousand impossible tasks for us to execute at once.
As much as we are profoundly pleased by Your Majesty’s immense trust, or at least most of us are, we are not omnipotent deities. Every single report that lands on your royal desk comes from one of my men risking his life to write it, and potentially another who bled to gather that information.You have us on dozens upon dozens of keep and courts, keeping another dozen of report. Any man we pull for a sudden mission means one less shield protecting another border. We are at our absolute limit."
The spymaster let out a long, heavy sigh, shifting his weight. "And currently, Marcus is on a very critical, highly sensitive engagement. It would require a massive influx of gold and losing months of hard-won effort to pull him back now, not to speak of the staggering amount of extra work and damage control that would be required of me personally to mitigate the fallout."
I see, Alpheo thought with a sigh.Perhaps a small bribe was in place?
He quietly reached into his doublet, pulled out a small, neatly folded document, and slid it across the ironwood table toward the spymaster.
Lucius gave it the same interest he would give a pebble.
"Oh? What do we have here?" the King murmured, discretely jabbing a calloused finger onto the parchment. "Is it perhaps a draft for next year’s expanded espionage budget? A rather generous sum, wouldn’t you say?" He pushed it an inch closer into the candlelight so that Lucius could read it..
And yet he did not even deign to look down at it. "Your Majesty, pardon the language.
I do not give half a shit about how much gold I am managing here. I hate my job. Anything that requires me to spend more time working, I despise on principle. Throwing coin at me just means I have to manage the coin."
Alpheo stared at him for a beat. Well, the King thought, time for a change of method.
He smoothly pulled the budget back, reached for a blank scrap of paper, dipped a fresh quill into the inkwell, and hastily scribbled a few lines in his bold, royal handwriting. He blew on the ink to dry it.
"Oh? What could this be, then?" Alpheo asked, holding the paper up by its corners and waving it tantalizingly in front of the spymaster’s hood. "Is this... could it possibly be...oh my.... a fully signed, crown-sanctioned two-week leave of absence? Exempt from all duties? Free to spend time with a lovely wife and children on a quiet country estate overlooking the sea?"
That, at the very least, successfully captured Lucius’s undivided interest. The spymaster’s eyes locked onto the parchment like a hawk spotting a rabbit.
"Oh, but look at that," Alpheo mused, turning the paper around. "It doesn’t seem to have a specific name written on the recipient line, now does it? I suppose I could grant it to someone who truly deserves it.I think Asag had been doing a fantastic job, as of late. And he complains very little as well. ’’ he coughed in his hand.’’ Unlike someone.’
Still, I am sure that it would be quite easy to write another name, perhpas that of someone who can solve a little problem for me in Sharjaan. Mm?Any taker?"
Lucius stared at the paper, then up at his King. He let out a sigh threatening to blow out the candle between them.
"Damn the king ," the Carrion Raven muttered, his black-tipped fingers snatching the unsigned leave right out of the air and tucking it securely into his heavy cloak. "I will get on it immediately, Your Majesty. Marcus will be in Sharjaan before the moon turns."
"I knew I could count on your unwavering work principle’’Alpheo chuckled, leaning back into his seat. "Now go. Go buy yourself a few weeks of peace, Lucius. And make sure to send my regard do your wife and daughter, make sure to invite me at your child’s birth, I’ll be there , just for you. Hopefully it is a boy."
He gave him a wink and received a scowl back.
Truly, were they not becoming fast friends?