“It's come to our attention that Master Tor is making field devices for several County’s forces now, since the declaration of hostilities between County Ward and the Kingdom of Noram. My County of Morris borders Ward on the west and sits as guard to the Capital itself. I was hoping that I'd be allowed to purchase some shields, weapons and flying gear for my own forces, since we may be expected to act in the common defense…”
It was a good argument, Tor realized, and done in a way that he absolutely hated, sounding as if the man was talking about him like he wasn't there, even as he looked at him. The Count seemed to be giving most of his attention to Rolph, which made sense, then to Tovey, only making casual glances at Tor at all. Right, because Tor was just a device to him, a thing to make what he wanted, not a real person at all.
Really he was paying slightly more attention to the kid next to him than Tor himself. At first it didn't make sense, until Tor saw that the boy had casually been pointing the force lance at the Count the whole time, ready to put him through the wall if the man attacked. Heh. Well, Tor had named him as a bodyguard, hadn't he? It probably also explained why the guy wasn't talking directly to him or making much eye contact. He didn't want to seem hostile…
That seemed like a good plan actually, given everything. Apparently the Count picked up on the fact that the boy hadn't backed down even when he didn't have a weapon or shield. Now that he did, the kid was probably nearly the man’s equal in a fight, even if he was untrained. There was a real reason everyone wanted shields for their combat troops. It could make a single man worth about ten in a fight. More if it was a very high end shield. What the boy next to him wore was that. In fact it was better than what the elite military had right now. The weapon in his hand was too.
Rolph nodded gently, “I see. Well, on the surface that sounds reasonable, but there are limited work hours in a day, and expenses to be met. Plus Sir Torrence has prior obligations to meet. If he were to stress himself on your behalf, and it is a real stress by the way, not to be taken lightly, enough so, that at the current rate a royal edict has already been proposed to prevent him from working any harder and requiring a vacation — not a joke by the way Tor, mom's about ready to storm the room and take you out by force you know — what can you offer for his time and efforts?”
Count Morris may have been overbearing, entitled and grumpy, but he'd come to deal, even if it meant doing so with a common looking little man sitting barefoot on a bed. The man offered going rate for all devices provided, and a small section of land that he assured was a good fertile farm in a valley bottom, that could be tenanted with Tor's people. Conveniently enough it was a strip that directly bordered County Ward. All goods raised there would go to him untaxed for twenty years and the man suggested openly that he had a daughter and some young nieces that Tor could sleep with if he wished. Or nephews if he'd rather.
That part was said with a smarmy eye and a smirk towards the boy, who was most likely underage for such things. It wasn't judging, just calculating and creepy the way it was said. Tor was going to hit the man for even making the suggestion, an irrational and stupid impulse since hitting a Count would not go over well, but the man flew backwards out of his chair first, which was helpful of him. It save Tor from having to do it. The boy next to him looked down at his hand, shocked.
Rolph laughed.
“I think that answers the question about your nephews or young nieces rather succinctly. Tor, what say you as to the rest?”
As the Count fought his way to his feet, looking angry and like he was going to try and attack someone, Tor grinned and spoke quickly.
“Well… I can offer two thousand units next month, or… given the delicate nature of the location, I may be able to sacrifice some sleep and get things done faster, but I can't promise anything right now. I have a trip to Afrak coming soon as one of my obligations… It predates the war, but is an important project to them. So important that I've been named the Ambassador even. That won't stop me from working totally, but will slow things down. Is that all right?”
The man stopped, fists clenched, glaring at the boy in brown who still aimed the force lance his way, looking more than a little scared. Tor got that. A sitting Count could have a commoner put to death for an attack like that, even if it was hilarious. Actually, the most likely occurrence for such a thing would be death. Counts could be touchy like that. It helped right now that everyone else was pretending that it didn't matter though. That it wasn’t a matter of honor or pride as much as happenstance. Suddenly, unexpectedly, the older man snorted a sound that wasn't amused but didn't seem overly angry either.
“I apologize if my offer gave offense sir, none was intended.” He bowed to the boy, just a bit, and smiled tightly, then turned to Tor slightly. “Of course sooner is better, but since no one in the world could be expected to deliver such devices in four times that, I guess I can't complain too much, can I? Thank you. Again, forgive me for any… disruption to your day. I've been a little stressed as you might imagine. The Wards aren't exactly friends of mine right now. It's a shame really, we've always gotten along well enough in the past. I really don't know what Marvin is thinking. Declaring war… Preposterous.”
Tor stood and almost put out his hand to shake, but caught himself. In the Capital it was all about bowing. Right. He made a low bow, as appropriate to his old station, forgetting for a moment that he was a Knight now, A Countier too. Not just a student from the country. Everyone else stood and there were bows all around, with the kid making an effort to get lower than Tor was. Oops. Well, at least his new guard or whatever knew the correct protocol. Tor still had to think about it himself, but then he hadn't grown up with it.
The Prince smiled politely, even though the bowing had obviously hurt and walked the older man to the door, which the boy shut quickly behind him, turning around with wide eyes. Rolph pointed at him, a single finger accusing without a word, making the kid cringe again and look down.
“Ger, what are you trying to do, start a war? Get yourself killed? I admit, it was funny as all hell, but Count Morris isn't exactly known for his sense of humor. That he didn't call you out… Well, I guess he wouldn't have would he? As a commoner you'd just be put to death, he doesn't know about your family ties. Since I know Tor, that means that he'd have probably challenged him to a duel first, and won, which means the Morris heirs would probably go to war with him and really, we don't need that right now, it would just be a mess all around, so please, in the future, for the good of the kingdom and the war effort I must ask you to hold off on attacking anyone unless you really have to, all right?” The tone was half scolding, half fairly high humor, but the boy nodded as if given a reprieve from death.
Smiling Tovey pointed at Tor, gesturing with his whole hand really, the polite way of addressing an equal, or even a near equal, so really nice of the guy all things considered, and told him that they'd actually come to see that he got his daily exercise, which was to be weapons practice in the salle with Countess Printer and several others. Whatever a salle was. Nodding Tor went to find his socks and shoes. Ger shifted uneasily.
Right, what to do with him?
“Ger is it? What's your full name, if that's not it I mean…” Tor didn't want the kid to be uneasy if that was all the name he had. Not everyone used last names even in the Capital. Ger was a fine name. Certainly as good as Tor. Better probably, since more people had it, or something similar.
“Gerald Negev Cannor, Master Tor sir.” The boy sounded humble and could be barely heard suddenly.
“Tor. Not Master Tor. Especially if we're going to be working together. Were too close in age for anything like that. Do you have exercise clothes around? I guess for the time being you should just go to my practices with me, unless you have some of your own to go to? I don't know… what kind of training have you had?”
As a palace serving boy, grandson of Laura the head cook that had died in the attack at the Queen’s birthday it turned out, and otherwise an orphan, he knew how to read and write and do sums, as well as cook and bake a little as well as palace protocol. No one had ever taught the boy to fight, even though he clearly had the reflexes for it. An oversight for sure. So really, about where Tor had been at the same age. Only bigger, stronger, and made of sterner stuff all around. Nodding he suggested that Ger go and do all the exercises with them that day, until proper training could be set up. Tovey agreed with him at least, though Rolph wrinkled his nose.
“Even the little kids can do more than I can right now, it's embarrassing.” It was clear that the Prince was kidding, at least mainly, but Ger ducked his head again, as if ashamed that his abilities might outstrip the wounded royal.
It took half an hour for everyone to show up in the salle, which turned out just to be a large open room with vaulted ceilings, sanded wooden floors that were well worn instead of polished, and high windows to let in natural light. Tor wondered if they'd been constructed that high on purpose so that when his practice weapons flew out of his hand they wouldn't shatter as easily, being hard to hit way up there. It made sense, though how the builders
