A Promise of Iron Brandon McCoy (howl and other poems TXT) 📖

styles in his book. Delicate work there, but he has some skill as an artist to be sure.”

“Ruks are natural artists,” Penir said, stuffing a piece of bacon into his mouth. “We’re just too busy toiling to find that out. Not that an Imperial would buy what we was selling anyway.”

I shook my head and eased back into my plate.

“So am I supposed to call you Lord now and lick your arse like the rest of ‘em?”

“Faerin will do,” I said, “I expect to have my ass licked by far more important people than you by the end of the day.”

“A fucking right you are there, mate!” he shouted. “Bout damn time one of us made something of ourselves in this shit pond. You just make sure I get to see that blade of yours when you get it back. I never figured to see one, never figure to see another, count my stars blessed that is.” He stood abruptly.

“You off so soon?” I asked. “Stay awhile. I could use the—”

“Can’t, mate, Old Monroe wants me to go shore up the outer wall. Fell moon tonight, I gotta make sure no one sneaks in to murder the lot of ya during your feasting and drinking.”

I nodded. “Well, thanks, I suppose.”

He gave me a wink and headed off, leaving a few eggs and one piece of bacon on his plate. I sighed, grabbed his bacon, and popped it in my mouth. Whispers returned. I left a few moments later without finishing my meal.

I headed back to the manor house and was greeted by Richard at the crest of the hill. “Did you find your retainer to your liking, my lord?”

“Jaeron? He’s fine. Why?”

“Matron Kerry suggested the appointment when you were awarded your stars, my lord,” he explained. “With your…ascension, the situation has evolved. I would be remised in my duty if I did not confirm he was to your liking.” He stepped closer and whispered, “I know how he can be.”

“Kerry had her reasons, self-serving more than anything. We all know how attached he is to her.” I said. “But I’ll be fine, Jaeron looks up to me. If anyone is going to get some use out of the boy, it’s me.”

“Wise words, my lord,” he said appreciatively. “Would you care to review the guest list?”

I laughed. “What guest list, Richard? I don’t know a single one of these copper-eyed dove eaters. This is not my thing. This is… Wait. I thought Kerry was supposed to have taken care of all of this?”

“Yes, my lord, but she has left the estate. I was hoping to—”

“She was away yesterday, too,” I said. “What could possibly keep the old woman away for two days? Maybe we should send someone out for her and make sure she wasn’t arrested for pickpocketing or something.”

Richard let out a rare laugh. “My lord, I can assure you the Matron Kerry is well; she left yesterday before you arrived and is due to return this evening before the party.” He held the guest list out to me.

I sighed. “Alright, give it here. Sorry, I just don’t know what I’m…”

He grabbed my arm, guiding me from the open hill into the shadow of an old elder tree. “Never apologize to me, my lord,” he said, “or anyone else under your protection.”

I looked down at his hand on my arm and raised an eyebrow.

“Being a lord is different than,” he paused, “who you were when you arrived yesterday. You must act the part, do and be what is expected of you.”

He looked to the sides. “If you permit me, Master Faerin, being a lord is all about expectations, act as expected, lead as expected, rule as expected. A lord is a protector, a guide, a punisher, and an executioner. This is not for you, but for the common man, and for the sake of the house. Indecisiveness, uncertainty, doubt, are all things that will weaken the heart of your people and weaken their love for you as their lord.”

I looked down, shifting from side to side. I accepted the idea of being a lord, the prestige the title. But I hadn’t fully considered what it meant to be a lord. It came with responsibility. It came with expectations. I could not pretend to be a lord or be one in name alone. I would need to act the part in earnest. I just had no idea how.

“That’s good advice, Richard. I will consider it. Thank you.”

“A very lordly response,” he said with a bow. “I shall finalize the guest list in Matron Kerry’s absence and have any remaining invitations dispatched immediately.” Richard departed, leaving me standing with my thoughts in the shade.

I returned to the manor house and Quill’s workshop. I gave the door a knock. This time he opened it expectantly. “Prompt as usual,” he said, gesturing me to the center of the room.

I looked at the painting. It still wasn’t finished.

“I’ll need some more time,” he explained as he handed me Nahdril, wrapped once more in black cloth, “But I am all finished with your lady.”

His hands trembled as I took Nahdril from him.

“You alright, Quill?”

“Oh, I’m fine. I just need a cup of tea,” he said as he shuffled over to the wooden shelves that lined the walls. He opened a few small drawers, taking a pinch of dried herbs from each and sprinkling them into a small stone mortar. He rubbed his fingers together under his nose and smiled. Cup in hand, he walked to the hearth where a kettle was heating. Carefully, he poured hot water over the herbs and whisked them together with a thin wooden reed. He then reached a hand into his tunic and produced a small glass vial filled with an orange substance. He unscrewed the lid and added three drops from the bottle into his tea.

“Blessings!” he said, raising his cup in the air. A few strokes of his short beard and he was at it again, brush in hand.

“Tea,