The Burning Crown (Stone Blade Book 4)
The Burning Crown
by James "Matt" Cox
The story presented here is fiction.
Any similarity to any person living, dead or virtual is purely coincidental.
Copyright 2013 by James M. Cox, Jr.
Cover Art by: www.viladesign.net
Books by James "Matt" Cox
A Pattern of Details
Books in the Stone Blade series:
Stone Blade
Double Bait
The Radical Factor
The Burning Crown
This book is dedicated to Chris and Kandee Blackledge.
My middle son and daughter-in-law.
Chapter 0. Prologue
"Order. Order! Lairds and Ladies, order please!"
Lucius Marius Franco Gladius, Laird of the Great and Noble House of Gladius, third in Precedence in the Worlds of the Crown of Stars, pounded the lectern again and the Nobles of the Hausmoot finally began to settle. The overall level of noise decreased but the conversations didn't. Vociferous discussions and debates gave way to whispers and passionate exhortations as the seniormost members of the Noble Houses vied to express their desires and points of view or to refute those put forth by others.
Gladius held his composure and patience, outwardly, and waited for the chatter to settle. It did not take obscenely long and, given the circumstances, he made allowances. He scowled at Ferber Lydon Gary Laird Toms-Watt and Ellen Kelly Lisa Lady Hallings. By the grave looks on their faces and the set of their bodies they discussed pirate raids, which had decreased of late. A fair number of Toms, Watt and Hallings systems lay at the periphery of the Crown worlds which made piracy and system raids their most pressing concern.
Important, true, but less so than the matter at hand! Despite the chaos raging in the three hundred fifty-three years since the last vestiges of the Terran Imperium collapsed, the worlds that now bore the names of the Crown of Stars settled into stability. Finally! Terra's brutal legions no longer tried to extort obedience, ravage their former planets or rule them.
Interstellar pirates, scavengers and scum who claimed no planet as home, now roamed the star lanes in vessels more patches than starship. Their threat lay in the speed with which they could hyperjump into a system, land their raiders and withdraw with whatever they could steal. Only ready troops and ships could deter or defeat them and the Crown Worlds had few enough of those.
The Great and Noble Houses of Toms-Watt and Hallings certainly supplied their share of Elder Guardsmen, more even, and they equally certainly deserved the benefit of their protection. Unfortunately, the many other Worlds of the Crown also deserved and needed them and the needs of the Crown must come first! Ever and always!
Toms-Watt and Hallings quieted, mostly, and Gladius turned his gaze to the other pairs and trios paying less than full attention to the proceedings.
"Lairds and Ladies," said Gladius to a much quieter room, "If it please the Great and Noble Houses of the Hausmoot we have a question at hand.
"Since the end of the Terran Imperium we, the citizens of the Worlds of the Crown of Stars, have been governed by the wisdom of three men. Hermann Rene du'Varl, Alfraed Ulfric von Halm and Appius Livius Quadratus established from the chaos of the Imperial collapse a way to bring order, safety, security, peace and prosperity to these our worlds. They established on this world the Imperium named Stercoreum a great hall wherein matters of import would be discussed and decided.
"Now, on this world we call Barinhall, we, the descendants of those three great men, are called upon to make a choice of deliberation, honor and hope for the future."
Several of the Lairds and Ladies shifted, not quite daring to fidget. To a person they knew Crown history and Precedence yet today of all days they would not dare to shorten the ceremony!
"In their wisdom, our founders established the Noble Houses and the Precedence by which we govern our lives and those of our citizens. The Precedence by which we protect the peoples who have given us their fealty and trust. The citizen subjects whose blood Ulfric von Halm swore an oath to treasure and guard above his very own! My Lairds and Ladies we owe our subjects an eternal debt, a debt that can never be paid back yet a debt we must pay with our strength, our will and our very lives."
"Hear hear!"
Gladius gazed sharply at Laird Brightcrown but couldn't hold it long. Several others echoed those words, though not as vigorously. He caught himself short of a smile. Such would simply not do for now!
"Lairds and Ladies, our beloved King Rhett, Briallen Tegwin Martin Lord Watt, died without heir. It is our honor and obligation this day to name his successor and elevate our new King!"
This time more than just Brightcrown cheered! Though struck down untimely King Rhett had, in his short reign, made friends of some enemies and other enemies to flee Crown space. When the cheers showed little sign of abating Gladius nodded to the herald. That worthy, Thomas McCraid, blood of House Gladius, nodded and stepped forward. The noise diminished slowly but fell to silence when McCraid reached the center of the floor. He raised his staff and pounded the floor three times slowly.
"My Lairds and Ladies," said Gladius into the new silence, "I call the question at hand."
Now all extraneous noise stopped. Knights, squires, assistants and attendants all left their Lairds and Ladies. The Noble men and women straightened collars and brushed sleeves, waiting for the herald to strike the floor again. He did so and turned to the Seat of Brightcrown.
Edgar Robert Christopher Fyrelm Laird Brightcrown, young but forced to assume his place by the unfortunate death of his father, stood without hesitation. Gladius knew the lad didn't like having the Lairdship of his House but, with the blood of Brightcrown, hence du'Varl, running through him he would serve to the best of his ability until his last, dying breath.
"My Laird Gladius," said Fyrelm, "The Great and Noble House of Brightcrown speaks AYE!!"
The herald pounded his staff and it spawned many echoes. Fyrelm flashed Gladius a rakish and too-youthful grin before resuming his seat.
The herald turned next to Josef Varnon John du'Varl, who rose with a cold look toward Fyrelm.
"My Laird Gladius. The thoughts of the Great and Noble House of Varl have been made most painfully clear."
More than a few of the members of the impressive crowd gasped as du'Varl turned his back on the Moot. With a total disregard for propriety a Varl squire scooted forward, turned his Laird's chair and scuttled back. du'Varl sat casually, unconcerned with the insult he'd just delivered.
McCraid bore a pained look as he turned to the Seat of Hallings. Gladius felt a pain more severe than his herald showed. In earlier times such action would certainly have called for blood duels. It troubled him that it still might.
"My Laird Gladius. The Great House of Hallings speaks 'Aye!'"
One by one the Great and Noble Houses cast their votes. The 'ayes' carried, of course. Precedence was clear but, by the rules established by the Stercoreum Senate before it disbanded for the last time, all the Houses must needs have a chance to speak and, possibly, to nominate another candidate. None save Varl did in a discordant Moot not too long past. After the last House spoke the herald pounded the floor three times.
"The voices of the Great and Noble Houses of the Hausmoot of the Worlds of the Crown of Stars have spoken," said Gladius, "Bring forth the vestments. Elias Troy Bertrand Lord Edders, the Hausmoot calls you to serve."
Two months younger than Fyrelm but no less resolute, Edders approached Gladius with a most serious expression. At just the right spot he stopped, took a knee and looked up at the man he spent his young life calling 'Uncle Marius.' A page barely tall enough to hold it brought
out the ancient yet well cared-for scabbard. From it Gladius drew the sword that once belonged to Hermann Rene du'Varl. Still razor-sharp, the sword sparkled the reflection of the stars visible through the small, transparent cap in the domed roof. The sword weighed more with history than metal and Gladius spent a selfish moment holding it. Then he raised it in a firm, two-handed grip to point straight up at the pinnacle of the ceiling.
Total silence fell as Gladius brought the blade down to gently touch Edders' shoulders: right, left and right again.
"Elias Bertrand Troy Lord Edders. The Hausmoot of the Great and Noble Houses of the Worlds of the Crown of Stars now calls you to serve as our Great Laird and King. You are called to swear fealty to the peoples both Noble and common of all our worlds and to lead us all, forswearing the call of one House and subsuming those of all Houses. By the Great Oaths you have spoken for yourself and your House, now stand and serve!"
Gladius sheathed the blade quickly and knelt when Edders stood, offering it to him. The young lad fastened the sword to his own belt.
"Stand up, Uncle Marius. Let that be my first command!"
The Moot exploded in noise and Gladius gladly obeyed his new King. It took more effort than he knew he had not to reach out and tousle the lad's hair. Later, perhaps, when he had the King alone.
***
Laird du'Varl set a hasty pace down the corridor with his entourage behind him. Not a hurried pace but certainly as fast as Noble propriety would allow. He himself was in no particular hurry but he had no desire to stop for casual chat. Those few who thought to stop him for a word or ten thought again at the expression on his face.
du'Varl made careful note of the question and the responses, despite having his back turned. For the little he missed he knew he could count on the multiples of videocasters to supply the details. As he walked he tallied his enemies, both the ones he knew and the ones that surprised him. He also amended his list of allies. Some of the votes surprised him to his favor, perhaps in indication of desired friendship, perhaps not. Either way he would make overtures. They would all know his pleasure or his wrath soon enough!
The Laird of House Varl kept his immense satisfaction hidden behind a mask of contempt and disgust. None of those pompous fools knew it but he, Josef du'Varl, put young Edders on the throne. Even though his father planted the seeds it was his son Josef Varnon John who would see them blossom and yield fruit! Besides, his father had another goal in mind when he began his plans.
Josef Varnon Barrick du'Varl had little or no thought beyond fusing the shattered blood between Brightcrown and the true House of Hermann du'Varl. Until his death he held to his foolish ideals about family and blood ties, no matter the insult upon them. His plans might even have worked save that it would require waiting for his children or even grandchildren before they ripened! When Josef Varnon Barrick finally died of old age and disappointment, Josef Varnon John began implementing the plans he had in place for so long.
Josef Varnon the father would never have approved of killing Edgar Robert's father. The elder Fyrelm was too unpredictable for Josef Varnon's likes. He also had an absolute knack for acting in the worst way possible for the goals of House Varl. How many suspected agents had Josef Varnon questioned, some to the point of death, before realizing the fool Fyrelm had no spies?
The younger Fyrelm cared little for the Lairdship of his House. Foolish, thought du'Varl, but ever so typical of Brightcrowns. Every single one of them, Noble or Notable, would sooner spend their lives away from their palaces working side-by-side with commoners, theirs or others', than in tending matters of planning and Precedence.
Still, young Edgar Robert had little experience moving in the circles du'Varl walked, and would welcome any ally who could ease his journey into them and protect him from others desirous of his dishonor or demise. Josef Varnon would cultivate that trust, subtly of course, and woo the House of Brightcrown back into its proper fold.
After the funeral and Edgar Robert's ascension, du'Varl worked hard to stay around the grieving lad. Though Edgar shared his father's foolish idealism Josef Varnon still managed to plant himself firmly in the lad's life. Other Houses looked askance at this but none dared deny the blood they yet shared. When the time came, soon, he would choose blood and family above his fealty to strangers, many of them enemies. Of that du'Varl had no doubt.
***
Finally, the door du'Varl sought stood before him. He took a moment to compose himself and nodded to the page. That man, Lewis Larner, knocked on the door, waited until he heard the invitation to enter, opened the door and stood behind it. He bowed Laird Varl with an oily smile, waited for the entourage to pass, closed the doors and stood waiting.
Larner, too, had a part in this. His thorough knowledge not only of Precedence and history but Crown law and common helped find the bizarre chain of events du'Varl planned to use. He also had his reward in the form of two personal Writs from du'Varl: one annulling his expulsion from the Order of the Bar and the other enabling him to establish his own House. With some amusement, du'Varl suspected he'd probably already asked King Elias to execute both.
Within the Royal Chambers sat King Elias with his wife beside him, her belly swollen with the soon-to-be Prince. Several cousins and other distant relations puttered about the room, dutifully arranging it to the new King's desires. du'Varl worked hard not to spit at this. How many servants did even Barinhall employ, much less the Great and Noble House of Edders? Instead he worked his face into a proper smile and bowed.
"My Laird du'Varl!" Elias rose and gave a bow.
"You... need not bow to me, Highness," said du'Varl.
"I bow in respect, my Laird, and in no small surprise. It is our pleasure to see you here so soon. Would you care for wine?"
"No thank you, your Highness." Idly du'Varl wondered if the King would have served the wine himself. Preposterous! "Surprise, Highness?"
"Indeed. After your... After the Moot..." Elias seemed uncertain what to say.
This time du'Varl's smile was genuine.
"I understand, your Highness. Please realize that neither I nor House Varl has aught against you. We have naught against you or the Great and Noble House of Edders, my Oaths on that. I did, however, and do believe that your youth is not the virtue the other Houses believe it is. Pray forgive me, Highness, but that is the truth of it."
This time Elias bowed where he sat.
"I do understand, my Laird. I appreciate your candor. I trust," he said with some humor, "that you will not lose that soon."
du'Varl chuckled. "Never, your Highness. The Great and Noble House of Varl will always speak the truth as we see it, no matter what offense it may cause."
"And I shall count you a better ally for it, my Laird. This path was not of my choosing. Yet... Yet by the Oaths I swore I shall do my duty and take it as my honor. It is only with the help of all the Great and Noble houses that I or any of us will succeed. If such help involves no contention then it is no help at all."
Now du'Varl bowed. "That is wisdom beyond your years, Highness, and such wisdom I respect! It is truth also, your Highness. We all do live to serve the Worlds of the Crown of Stars and none of us has aught but its future and success in our hearts. The Great Oath of House Varl is upon that!"
***
"... but there you are wrong, Uncle Marius! Their vision is admirable and their dedication is absolute."
Young Edgar Robert and not Laird Brightcrown walked beside Gladius on their way to visit the King. The Moot celebration lasted longer than it should have but Gladius really couldn't criticize that. The people of the Crown had been without a King more than long enough. Afterward Gladius made a token appearance in the side hall where most of the Lairds and their hangers-on gathered for a glass of wine and heavy political discussion.
After a round of hand-shaking, some discussion and pleasant words from others of his 'nephews' Gladius excused himself for a visit to the King. Edgar Robert used that as his own excuse to leave. Thankfully
the young Brightcrown had little stomach for Hausmoot politics.
"Perhaps, lad," said Gladius, "but even if they are as resolute as you think, this League of yours is a long way from here through a lot of uncertain space. Even the ship they sent here spoke of that. Their captain and diplomat themselves said they have more enemies than systems. I hope you made them no promises!"
"Friendship only, Uncle Marius. I'm not the fool many think of me! Should they manage to expand themselves to within convenient trading range, House Brightcrown will trade with them gladly. If."
"Would that it happen soon, Edgar. I fear it will not, though. Such ideals as they hold are less durable than they are appealing."
"But good trade makes good friends, Uncle! I personally dislike House Watt, no secret there, but Lord Terrence Gerald leapt at Brightcrown's offer to open additional routes. He likes me less than I him but even he saw the advantage there!"
"True, lad, and wise besides. The Crown is best served by strengthening itself, regardless of personal likes or dislikes. More Houses could learn that lesson! There is ample chaos, battle and the threat of both much closer than that League. Have you not heard the rumors of vestige Imperial legions gathering? To my mind that is a much greater threat."
Fyrelm dismissed that with a wave of his hand.
"I have heard them, Uncle. They are rumors. Rumors of rumors! The Great Rift is far from here and a hazard to hyperspace travel besides. Even farther by civilization! This supposed consortium of surviving legions is likely little more than a band or three of pirate fleets gathered around a rich asteroid field. No doubt they banded together under the most brutal of them and will not last past his death."
"But even small bands of pirates can be dangerous," countered Gladius, "Only an absolute fool would dismiss them as..."
Both of them stopped dead at the sound they heard ahead. The door to King Elias' chambers stood at the end of the hallway with a young page beside it. Fyrelm drew his sword and charged forward. Gladius paused only long enough to summon the Guard before running after the feckless Fyrelm with a well-intentioned curse.