Chapter Ten: Stance

As the atmosphere began to grow tense, Sir Byron opened his blade-sharp eyes and said calmly, "If the ambush on Young Master Stevenson had succeeded today, I would be willing to admit it. However, those men's actions were so crude, so outrageously foolish, that such conduct could not possibly serve the interests of the Siennes family."

"All mortals make mistakes," the portly noble retorted with a cold smirk, his ample belly preceding him. "And yet, land and cities are the very things that most easily drive men to folly. When Young Master Stevenson was attacked, I was standing atop the city wall with Sir Byron. Sir Byron, in fact, offered exceedingly generous terms, intending to refuse tonight's banquet. But the Carey family has always been loyal to every legitimate lord of Swordmaster Harbor. Ah, Byron, I'm not trying to pick a quarrel with you."

Carlos replied, his tone cool and noncommittal, "Swordmaster Harbor is the domain of the Stevenson family. Here, every matter must first consider the interests of the Stevenson family. I hope Sir Byron understands that."

Whether some within the city wished to test Carlos's mettle or to give the future young lord a taste of adversity, Carlos knew he must assert his position. This was Stevenson land, won by his father Mori at the risk of life and honor, and not to be coveted by others.

Of course, whether it was Byron's self-defense or the fat noble's attempts at sowing discord, Carlos responded with the same understated indifference. In an unfamiliar place, one must never trust strangers lightly—a lesson his father Mori had instilled in him since childhood.

When supper was over and the others had drifted away, Augusta invited Carlos to sit by the hearth and handed him a cup of warmed liquor, so strong it brought tears to his eyes.

"A child of Cyprus must know how to hold his liquor," Augusta remarked.

"I recall Coman's tolerance was even worse than mine," Carlos replied, "in fact, I remember it was worse than Malt's."

"Swordmaster Harbor can be left in the hands of these nobles. The regiment of a thousand recruited for the Steam Guard will escort you to the Central Province," Augusta said suddenly, ignoring Carlos's jest about his son, his tone growing grave.

"Commander, that's unnecessary. If I leave, they will have no reason to act against me. Besides, they've already tested my strength, and my own people are more than enough to cope," Carlos replied. "Uncle Augusta, could you tell me my father's full plan?"

Augusta frowned beneath his thick beard. "A plan? Oh, you mean why Mori agreed to become the commander defending the Loa Avenue in exchange for the fief of Swordmaster Harbor. Truth is, your father didn't tell me much. He simply sent me to serve as lord here and to recruit a legion composed mainly of Steam Guardians under the name of the Steam Guard. Progress has been slow—people of Cyprus are not welcomed here, nor are their legions. As for anything else, he only told me that no matter what happened, I must ensure you are safely escorted to the Central Province."

"Lord Augusta, I am deeply grateful for your concern."

The strong liquor flushed Carlos's complexion, but he was not so drunk as to lose his senses. Augusta's intention was clear: he hoped to persuade Carlos to leave Swordmaster Harbor sooner, not to lose himself in the pursuit of lordly power.

"I will leave—once definite news from Blackstone Fortress arrives, I'll set out and continue south."

Augusta seemed almost immune to the effects of alcohol, drinking prodigiously without his ashen face flushing so much as a moment.

"You must leave as soon as you can," he pressed, blunt as ever. "The Western Strait is completely sealed off. No ship may enter Swordmaster Harbor from the opposite shore. Cyprus has fallen, utterly and completely."

"In half a month, should there be any reply, the ravens will return," Carlos insisted.

Augusta seemed not to heed him. He stretched his rough, callused hands toward the fire for warmth.

"I also sent out scouts to patrol near Blackstone Tower, but they've disappeared. There may be no one left to tie a message to a raven's leg for you."

Carlos understood the implication, yet he could not bring himself to abandon hope entirely.

The old alchemist, Dubuy, joined them at the hearth for a small drink. The old man had been absent for much of the banquet and had just now returned, snow still clinging to his black cloak—a sign he had been out.

"There is no need to rush to the Central Province. Winter is nearly over; frozen Cyprus will soon yield news."

Dubuy offered a contrary opinion, earning a glare from Augusta, who received only a shrug in response. "Don't worry about these nobles within Swordmaster Harbor. To involve a black magician in a plot against a duke's son is intolerable to the higher powers. I suspect that more black magicians will soon arrive at the city lord's residence, and they will be there to protect Carlos. At least in this city, Carlos will be even safer."

"You went to find those who command the elements, didn't you?" Augusta asked, his face darkening.

"You are correct," Dubuy admitted freely, pouring himself a drink with hands trembling like those of a dying man—though no one believed Dubuy's time was near. He had already weathered at least a decade of winters, even in the harsh climes of Cyprus.

"The Stevensons were once a great house, Carlos. When you choose to go to the Central Province, you must be fully prepared. The people there treat their enemies more ruthlessly than the Iron Dwarves ever could."

"Yes, teacher, I know," Carlos replied. "My father told me, if ever I returned to the imperial capital of the Radiant Empire, I must perform better than expected—or not go at all. Still, I wish to see it with my own eyes."

Augusta, the Steam Guardian, was not as at ease as Carlos. He, like Carlos's father, had once left that great and merciless city behind.

"Rest assured, even if you're unprepared, as a pioneer’s descendant, the worst that could happen is you slink back here to Swordmaster Harbor and live the easy life of a noble."

Carlos detected the hint of bitterness in his tone.

But Dubuy reached out his withered hand—surprisingly strong—and gripped Carlos tightly, his mood somber and devoid of jest.

"You must understand the gravity of the situation. Hear me, child, my student: An age of unprecedented darkness is about to descend. Beasts of the forest are awakening in great numbers—ice wolves, snow bears the size of mammoths and bison, and those winged creatures you've seen in the sky. Yet even more terrifying things still slumber in the darkness."