Smoke and Blood

2

2

A Traitor Unveiled

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L

ord Ewan Brennan was going to kill the Marquess of Tramore.

Of course, it was an order from the King himself. Odeir Lantes, Marquess of the city of Tramore—or Tramore’s Mark as it was more widely known—was a traitor to the crown. With a mass of rumors being relayed back to the castle by Tramore’s spies, Ewan had been sent to the borderland mark a week ago to investigate fully.

His boots clacked against the stone floor as he strode through the massive hall that led to the Marquess’s meeting chamber. Ewan took note of the various expensive—and foreign—tapestries that hung from the walls. Several of them depicted Nico, the king of Morland—Avar’s hated enemy. Disgust filled him as he passed more trinkets, likely gifts, that clearly had their origins from the foreign country.

Considering the history of the city, Ewan would have assumed no one would ever give Morland a foothold here. Forty years ago, Nico’s father, Tobias, had invaded Avar and took possession of Tramore’s Mark. And for eighteen years after that, he had kept the people of Tramore under his oppression. When Tobias died and Nico took the throne, King Harold of Avar took action. He led his army to Tramore’s Mark and pushed the foreign army from the city. With Nico in mourning, he had little desire at the time to try and take the city back. Now, twenty-two years later, the king of Morland was showing just how like his father he was.

Guards rushed to open the large wooden doors that led to the council chamber. A seneschal hastily announced Ewan as he entered. A large crowd of people was gathered around a raised dais towards the back of the room. Ewan smirked. The king was clear about Odeir’s death. It needed to be public, a lesson to others who might also think to betray their king for a little foreign gold.

“Ah! The King’s Enforcer,” Odeir crowed. “I’d heard that you were in my humble city.”

The crowd parted to let Ewan through. He recognized a few of the nobles he’d seen from court. Most of the crowd looked like commoners. He stopped a few feet from the dais.

“Indeed, I am,” Ewan answered.

Odeir tilted his head in mock deference. “To what do I owe the honor?” the Marquess asked.

Ewan stared at Odeir intently. The man was obese beyond anything Ewan had ever seen. He’d heard rumor of the man’s weight, but always assumed it was exaggerated. As he stood before Odeir now, Ewan had to wonder if the tales weren’t understated. Opulent jewelry glittered around his neck and on his fingers. His hair, what was left of it, was pulled back to cover his bald head and held in place with a circlet of silver.

Pompous fool, Ewan thought. He ignored the desire to draw his sword right then. He subtly felt his right leg, making sure the hidden blade hadn’t come loose.

“The King, our King,” he emphasized, “has heard some disturbing news.”

Odeir shifted in his chair. “Oh?”

“Yes. It seems that foreign gold has been discovered in the treasury.”

“That’s most disturbing,” Odeir said. “Most disturbing. How did it get there?”

Ewan could see Odeir was beginning to sweat. His eyes darted from Ewan to the nearest exit, then to his guards, then back to Ewan.

“Well, as you know, the tribute is collected from the cities by the royal tax collectors. Upon being deposited into the treasury, the clerks check every coin—”

“Every coin?” Odeir interrupted. His right eye had begun to twitch. “That seems a bit tedious.”

“—yes, every coin, and they found several solidi with the graven image of Morland’s liege upon them.”

“Oh my … that’s terrible.”

Ewan nodded. “Yes. Very terrible. So much so that King Harold has dispatched Inquisitors to every city that paid tribute.” It was common knowledge that Inquisitors were not gentle in their questioning.

Odeir fidgeted in his seat.

Squirm, you maggot! Ewan was enjoying the man’s discomfort. After all Harold’s done for this kingdom …

Ewan clenched his jaw but kept his face impassive. “The King has a message for you.”

Odeir’s eyes widened and his body language implied he was about to bolt out of his chair.

Ewan doubted the fat man could jog, let alone run. Odeir waved him up. Ewan climbed the few steps and paused before Odeir. They stared at each other, eyes locked on one another. Ewan felt his heart pounding in his chest and was surprised everyone in the room couldn’t hear it. Now that he stood close to Odeir, a foul odor reached his nose. He smelled worse than a room full of dirty pigs.

“How long have you been Marquess?” Ewan asked.

Odeir stumbled over his words before managing a weak, “Five years.”

“In those five years, has Nico or anyone representing Nico offered you money for anything?”

“Of course,” Odeir answered. “I’m sure you know the history of this disputed land as well as I do.”

“I do, yes. Have you ever accepted money—”

“This is preposterous!” Odeir roared, saliva taking flight from his lips. He rose from his chair. Ewan swiftly drew his knife, a hand-and-a-half blade, and plunged it into the Marquess’s stomach. The blade sliced easily through Odeir’s flesh. Ewan watched in horrid fascination as the entire blade, including the hilt, disappeared into the Marquess’s corpulence.

The crowd gasped in shock and disgust. Ewan stepped to the side as Odeir’s fat body fell toward him, moving out of the way, and watched as Odeir tumbled down the steps. Feces, piss, and blood mingled together in a grotesque swirl around the corpse. Ewan swallowed hard, forcing himself not to vomit. There would be time for that later. He leaped off the dais and landed lightly at the bottom of the steps.

Some of the guards had unsheathed their swords, but they looked at each other in confusion. They knew who Ewan was, or had at least heard of his reputation, but they also had sworn oaths to protect Odeir. Fear fought devotion and left them immobile and open-mouthed.

Among the crowd, women covered their mouths, appalled and traumatized. Someone wailed quietly. Another sobbed. The men backed up, the terror evident in their eyes. Ewan was glad to see no children were present.

“This is what happens to anyone who dares to give loyalty or quarter to our enemies. Odeir was being paid by the Morland king Nico for information and allowing spies into our kingdom from this city. If anyone would refute these claims, speak now.”

Nobody moved or spoke. Ewan looked to each person, waiting. When none spoke for the fallen man, Ewan nodded. “King Harold will not tolerate sedition in any form. And neither will I.” He let his words hang in the air before continuing.

“Cian Bryne, step forward.”

The nobles shuffled to the sides, making a path for the man who moved toward the dais. The man, Cian, wore a dark green tunic and black breeches. His nobility was obvious from his walk. When he reached the steps, he knelt on one knee and bowed his head.

“Do you swear loyalty to King Harold?” Ewan asked.

“Yes,” Cian answered loudly so all could hear.

“Do you swear to protect the people of Tramore and the kingdom of Avar?”

“Yes.”

“And do you swear to stand against the blight that is Morland?”

“Yes.”

“Then with the authority of King Harold, I hereby declare you the new Marquess of Tramore’s Mark. You have a month to get the affairs of your holdings in order, then you must report here permanently. Your loyalty to the King is to be commended.”

While everyone seemed surprised by the announcement, Ewan knew that Cian had been prepared for this moment. Once Harold became aware of the rumors and began to suspect Odeir’s treachery, he was quick to have Ewan find a replacement.

Cian rose to his feet and Ewan embraced him on the shoulder. “Get this mess cleaned up,” Ewan said.

Cian ordered the guards to remove Odeir’s body, then dismissed the crowd. Once everyone but the guards was gone, Cian approached Ewan.

“Thank you for this opportunity,” he said.

Ewan clapped him on the shoulder again and smiled. “You’re welcome. Just remember, this didn’t happen easily. There were a few others more qualified than you. It took some time to convince Harold.”

“I know. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure this city becomes the beacon of strength it once was. Thank you again. I’m indebted to you for sticking your neck out for me.”

“Fail me,” Ewan warned, “and you’ll be sticking your neck out for me.”

The two laughed.

Cian got serious and looked over his shoulder at the guards. It took four of them to haul the fat corpse out of the room. “I can’t believe Odeir was taking money from Morland. He had his vices, don’t get me wrong, but putting the entire kingdom in jeopardy … that’s odd, even for him.”

Ewan shrugged. “This is the first time I’ve ever seen him, but the findings were absolute. The Inquisitors delivered their reports to me directly.”

Cian shook his head, still in disbelief. “It’s crazy.”

“Yes, it is. Tramore is an important place, Cian. Odeir was once devoutly loyal to Harold, from what I’m told. Money, especially lots of it, can make people do things they wouldn’t dare do otherwise. Don’t let greed take hold of you.”

“I won’t,” Cian replied.

Ewan believed him. For now. “The Inquisitors are going to stay for a few more days, see if they can root out any more of Nico’s spies. Give them whatever they need.”

“Of course.”

They left the chamber and exited into an outdoor garden. “I don’t understand how you can deal with this heat,” Ewan complained. “I’ve only been here a week and already my skin feels like dust.”

“I was born in the desert, so I’m used to it. You would adapt if you were here long enough.”

“No, thank you,” Ewan said. “I miss the snow. And since my duty here is complete, I’ll be leaving within the hour. Do you need anything from me before I go?”

Cian shook his head. “No. I’ll get things into order quickly. Before the week is out I’ll have people saying ‘Odeir who?’”

“Good. See you at court in a few weeks for the council meeting.”

Ewan left Cian alone in the garden. He was ready to go home.