Chapter 2 - Tryton

Andre rested his hands on the pommel of his saddle and stared. His horse, indifferent to architectural magnificence, took advantage of the slack reins to crop at the rich grass. Behind him, Andre heard murmurs of astonishment as his men gathered around him, stunned by the same sight that held him.

Beneath the rise on which they stood, spread out as far as the eye could see, lay the Imperial City of Tryton. A thick wall, the height of four grown men, surrounded the city on all sides. Within rose a sea of rooftops and chimneys, crowded so close together Andre wondered how any street could fit in between. A steady stream of carts wended along the main road toward the gate, piled high with goods and produce.

Captain Raynor drew up alongside. "Impressive, isn't it?" Andre nodded mutely. "There, that'll be the Imperial Palace." Andre followed the direction of the captain's pointing finger, staring at the gleaming structure, tiny with distance, its tall spires fluttering with pennants. "Those'll be the palace grounds, of course; I've seen smaller towns." Raynor chewed reminiscently on his mustache as he contemplated the city. "Huh. It's even bigger than I remembered. That section looks almost new. Of course it's been over two decades since I was here last."

Andre shook himself, coming out of his reverie. He glanced back at his men, three Silvers hand-picked from the duke's own guard to serve as his retinue. He did not know any of them well, and had had scant time during the journey to become better acquainted. Their courteous but disinterested behavior over the past few days told him they did not know quite what to make of him, or of their new service. He wondered how long they had served in the elite ducal guard before being selected.

Of the three, Andre judged Gilroy to be the youngest and therefore the closest to himself in age. A tall youth with broad shoulders and an easy smile, his lusty tenor voice had filled their journey with song. Now, his eyes sweeping over the city, Gilroy let out a low whistle and exchanged apprehensive glances with his brother. Florian ran a hand through his headful of curls and shook his head ruefully.

"I remember thinking how big Savois was when we first joined the guard; this place makes it look like a quiet country estate."

"And it makes Estes Bend look like a backwater outpost," Gilroy nodded, referring to the small village from which they hailed, tucked away in the foothills of the Savois Mountains.

Andre chuckled, though he could not help but agree. Despite the difference in their ages, the brothers shared far more than the ash blonde hair and hazel eyes common to the eastern part of the duchy; their temperments matched right down to the way they had both flirted shamelessly with the maids at the inns along the road. The flow of their thoughts was so similar that one often finished a sentence that the other started.

"That's because it -is- a backwater outpost," chimed an amused voice. Basil smiled at the brothers' scowls of mock indignation. Unlike the others, he appeared unfazed by the sheer magnitude of the city, regarding it with his usual quiet, contemplative attitude. More introspective by nature, there was a collected steadiness about the Silver that drew Andre's approval. He reached up and tucked a few strands of light chestnut hair behind his ear, his calm green eyes turning toward Andre. "My lord?"

Seeing everyone apparently over their awe, Andre nodded and carefully guided his mount down the ridge. Their company soon merged with the other traffic along the main road. The rumbling carts stirred up clouds of dust, their rough-spoken drivers shouting and cursing at the pedestrians in their path. Peasants unable to afford better conveyance walked, hauling heavily-laden baskets on poles slung across their shoulders, bodies covered with the grime of the road. Andre saw a party of noblemen some ways ahead, prancing their horses around a drawn carriage, in which he supposed a lady must be riding. The crowd parted hastily to allow them passage, and an elderly man, moving too slow to suit one dandy's taste, received a stinging strike from the young man's riding crop to hurry him along.

At first surprised by the casualness of the lash, Andre soon realized that this must be a fairly ordinary occurrence. No one else took any note of it, and the commoners parted just as quickly for his party as for the other. Staring around with some curiosity, Andre found that few met his eyes, and those who did promptly dropped their gaze, touching hand to cap to indicate respect. One little girl, sitting beside her mother on their wagon seat, gave him a sweet smile; the mother, noticing her attention, reprimanded her sharply, at once turning the child's face away and ducking her head timorously at Andre.

"The nobles here rule with a heavy hand," remarked Captain Raynor, noticing Andre's perplexity. "'Tis not considered respectful for a commoner to look a nobleman in the eye, as though they were equals."

"Must make for rather awkward conversation, talking to someone who is studiously examining his own feet."

"You may laugh, but so it is, and so you will learn, if you don't want to make a fool of yourself. Anyhow, no gentleman will stoop to notice a peasant. A merchant, perhaps, if they deem his goods worthwhile."

Andre shot an odd look at the Captain, half-amused and half-disbelieving. While the Savois citizenry held the family in healthy respect, there was no undue awe. His grandmother maintained friendly relations with many of the holding's residents. The townspeople, especially, through long contact, felt that they had a perfectly good right to scrutinize and comment upon the doings of those whom they regarded as "their" nobility. He could scarcely credit Captain Raynor's assertion that the noblemen of Tryton would take offense at a mere look from the inhabitants of their city. He was about to ask jokingly about the penalties of such an act, whether the offender would be executed or merely fined, when he realized that they had arrived at the city gates.

Ignoring the long column of people and carts ahead of them, Captain Raynor led the way to the front of the line. The guards at the gate looked up as he drew rein beside them.

"His lordship, Andre Padwing of Savois, and entourage," Raynor announced.

The guards saluted respectfully, and one made a mark on a clipboard before waving the party through the gates.

"That's it?" asked Andre, passing under the gate and amazed at the short interview. "Shouldn't they at least demand proof or inquire about my business?"

"'Tisn't their place," replied Captain Raynor laconically.

Andre opened his mouth to demand whose place it was then, but swallowed his words as they emerged from the shadow of the gate. Here was a city the likes of which he had never imagined.

A broad, stone-paved avenue led deeper within the city, while narrower streets branched off in all directions. Brick and wooden buildings sat crammed side-by-side, and the second and third stories of many leaned into the street, overhanging the floors below them in an effort to create space that did not exist. Elaborate signs swung from every doorway, some faded with the weather, others bright with new paint, depicting everything from cheeses and wines to wheelwrights to cobblers.

The thing that drew Andre's attention most, however, was the people. The street swarmed with them. Beggars and tradesmen, peasants and merchants, most on foot, though a few rode in hansoms. They jostled unashamedly, cursed and spat and leaned out of upper stories to trade news with those below. None paid the slightest attention to the newcomers, save to give the party a wide berth. The noise was incredible, the shouts of peddlers, rumbling of carts on cobblestones, and the general hubbub of the most magnificant city in the Empire.

Andre stared at the scene, overwhelmed by the clamor and chaos. His horse danced nervously at the noise, rearing a little before pawing at the stones. The Silvers behind him were experiencing similar problems, being as used as he to large cities. A curse escaped Gilroy as his horse backed into his brother's, increasing the confusion. Captain Raynor gave them slight chance to absorb their amazement though, leading the way past the gate and leaving them no choice but to follow.

The congestion lessened as they left behind the bottleneck area of the gate. Andre, twisting his neck around in a futile effort to see everything, wished he had about ten more eyes.

Sweet stars in heaven, he thought in a daze. If the Imperial Court is anything like the city in which it's housed... He left that thought unfinished, feeling a new wave of apprehension. His father's parting words rang ominously in his head.

"The Imperial Court is no place for fools. Politics can be a deadly game, and gossip and rumor may kill more readily than a dagger in the dark. Keep a level head on your shoulders, and don't be tempted to act rashly. Lay your plans with care. Trust no one. Keep me updated on your progress."

As blessings go, that left somewhat to be desired.

"Keep a sharp eye on your purse, my lord," advised Raynor in a low rumble as the party approached a large open-air market. "These city pickpockets could steal the leaves off the trees in summertime without anyone the wiser."

Andre nodded absently, his mind elsewhere. "Captain, who are those people over yonder?"

A procession of some fifteen to twenty soldiers wound its way through the market, led by a stern nobleman astride a high-stepping stallion. The man's dress, while of the best cut and quality, was an unadorned black, setting off the sun-in-glory pendant that hung at his neck. He looked neither to the right nor left as he led his men, as though nothing could possibly hold the slightest interest for him.

His men followed his example, marching in double columns of perfect precision. Their austere, blood-red uniforms formed a sharp contrast to the bright blue attire of the guards at the gate, every golden button polished to a high shine. Sunlight glinted off their spears and the shields they bore, a brilliant white field emblazoned with the same sun-in-glory device that the nobleman wore. Glancing around, Andre noticed people scattering out of the way of the oncoming soldiers, standing silent and repectful with heads bowed as the procession passed.

Captain Raynor's face grew even grimmer than his usual dour expression. He made as if to spit upon the ground, then thought better of it. "Unless I'm mistaken, and I ain't saying that's impossible, that'll be the Spears of the Sun. And if that's so, then the fellow at their head would be an Inquisitor."

"I see," replied Andre quietly. He motioned to his men and nudged his horse to the side of the street to make way for the soldiers. In a trice, the last Spear had passed. The crowd closed in behind them, the market once more resuming its customary noise and clamor, but Andre found that his interest had waned. The sight of the Inquisitor and his men was a stark reminder of what he would face daily at Court. He remembered the hard eyes staring straight ahead out of impassive faces and shivered.

Captain Raynor shook himself, as though he felt the same chill that had affected Andre. "Let's go then," he muttered brusquely. "Shouldn't be too much further, I reckon."

Eventually, after Andre had become thoroughly lost, the streets led them to a more opulent and well-kept section of the city. The cramped shops along the road gave way to spacious boutiques, then to modest homes. Cobblestones turned to evenly paved bricks. Foot traffic decreased, replaced by hansoms and private carriages. The houses gradually grew larger and more ornate, until Andre could see mansions rising in the distance.

Andre liked the townhouse at first sight. The front was unprepossesing: a vine-covered brick wall, set with an iron gate wide enough to accomodate a carriage. The gate opened onto a drive that led both to the house and to the stables at the back. The house itself sat fairly close to the street, separated from the wall by a short stretch of lawn. Andre was pleased to see that the trees in the yard had been planted in such a way that while someone might observe the street from a second-story window, it would be difficult for those on the outside to look within. Ivy crawled up the side of the house, lending an air of vibrancy to the otherwise gray stone structure. A path led from the front of the house to the back, where a well-tended garden already displayed the early blooms of the season.

A boy, not more than twelve-years-old, ran around the corner of the house just as Andre and his men dismounted. He stopped dead at the sight, his eyes going round. Andre racked his brains a moment, finally producing the boy's name. "Hello, Michael. Nice to see you again."

"M-my lord," stammered Michael, managing a clumsy bow.

"Michael?" called a woman's voice from behind the house. "Where--? Oh!"

"Madame Framm, it's a pleasure to see you again," said Andre, greeting his new housekeeper as she emerged from around the corner.

"Oh, my lord! We weren't expecting you until tomorrow." Emma Framm nervously set down the basketful of herbs she had slung over one arm and tried to straighten her dress.

From the stains both on her and her son, Andre guessed that they had just been digging in the garden. He smiled his most charming smile. "Please, don't mind us. Is Master Hodges within?"

"Yes, my lord," she replied, having regained a measure of her composure. "Michael, take the gentlemen's horses to the stables. My father should be in the study, my lord; up the stairs and second door on the left. If your men will follow me, I can show them their rooms."

"Thank you, that's very kind." He left the three Silvers in her hands, motioning for Captain Raynor to accompany him.

Andre found the study with little trouble. It was a spacious room, comfortably furnished. A thick carpet covered the floor and bookshelves lined the walls. A large desk faced the door, imposing in its solidity, while a trio of armchairs rested before the fireplace, attended by an elegant side table. Sunlight filtered in through the partially open curtains, providing just enough light to read by.

Master Hodges sat behind the desk, his head bent over a column of figures. He looked up at the interruption with an annoyed expression that barely changed when he recognized his visitors.

"Master Hodges," greeted Andre. "We've just arrived."

"So I see, my lord," answered the steward dryly. "I trust your journey was a pleasant one?" he inquired in a tone more polite than interested.

"Very much so. How're things here?"

"They are well, my lord. I was just going over the household expenses," said Hodges, his voice containing just a hint of accusation at being interrupted.

Andre smiled pleasantly and sank into a chair, concealing his internal sigh; the man was such a stickler for routine it was a wonder he had agreed to Duke Padwing's request that he come to Tryton and arrange for Andre's living quarters in the city. And he would probably have refused if he thought I wouldn't embarass Savois by choosing some broken down shack to live in, he thought, amused. I swear, he's more obsessed with the family reputation than I am.

"And how're they looking?" he asked, allowing none of his thoughts to show. For all that he found Hodges' insistence on order and propriety to be annoying and pompous, he had to admit the man's honest concern for the family and unswerving loyalty to the duke. And his talent for management had kept the duchy running smoothly for as long as Andre could remember.

"Well enough, my lord," acceded Hodges, almost regretfully. "The duke's allowance is quite generous, and should be more than sufficient to meet any reasonable expenses that your lordship might incur."

Andre's lips twitched at the slight stress Hodges placed on the word "reasonable". Captain Raynor hastily turned his amused chuckle into a cough. "That is good to hear, Master Hodges."

Hodges brushed off the comment and produced a sealed note from the silver tray on one side of the desk. "This letter came for you, my lord, about two days past. The servant who delivered it said his master knew that you were not yet in residence, but would appreciate a reply at the first opportunity."

Andre accepted the missive with some surprise, wondering who in the city would know, not only of his existence and imminent arrival, but also exactly where to find him. The small, neat handwriting on the envelope was strange to him, but turning it over, he recognized the device on the seal. A sword clutched in the claws of a raven. House Ivington.

The note inside was short, polite, and to the point, conveying Duke Enrick's regards and an invitation to call as soon as he found himself comfortably settled and refreshed after his journey. Andre quickly penned a reply, arranging to present himself the next day if convenient.

"Would you be so kind as to show us the rest of the house, Master Hodges?" he asked afterward. "Or," he added with a straight face, seeing the man's look of mild indignation at being asked to play tour guide, "the Captain and I can look around on our own."

For a moment, Hodges struggled with himself, but apparently decided that leaving the expenses temporarily unfinished constituted a lesser evil than having Andre and Raynor trample through the house unchaperoned. He nodded stiffly and with no particular enthusiasm.

Despite Master Hodges' uninspired conversation as he showed them the house, Andre had to own himself impressed by what he saw. Savois' resources were limited, and he had been apprehensive about living in the city. The steward, however, had acquitted himself well, and using a mixture of economy and good taste, had made the townhouse a pleasant and rather quaint residence. Each room had been decorated with an eye to both comfort and functionality. The furnishings, while simple, were of excellent quality and style, offering elegance without the unneeded noise of elaborate ornamentation.

"Well done, Master Hodges," Andre said warmly when they had concluded. "Everything seems to be in perfect order."

"Thank you, my lord. There are but a few other matters that must be handled. I have turned much of the household management over to my daughter; she is a capable girl and will do her best by you. His grace the duke has arranged a factor for you here in the city; I have not yet met the man myself, but from what I hear he appears honest. The carriage requires some repairs and needs to be emblazoned with the family arms. I shall see to it before I leave."

"And when would that be?" asked Raynor.

"Tomorrow afternoon, sir. I have finished my duties here, as per the duke's instructions, and see no further point in lingering," Master Hodges replied. "I'm sure there are matters back at Savois that require my attention," he continued in funeral tones, as though expecting to see the estate in chaos after his absence.

"Indeed," said Andre. "Well, thank you again for your time. I'll let you get back to your duties then." Master Hodges bowed and vanished back upstairs. Andre and Raynor stared at each other until his footsteps faded, then the Captain snorted.

"How his grace puts up with that man day in and day out is beyond me."

Andre chuckled. "You have to admit he's good at what he does." He started toward the back of the house. "I could do with a wash and a bite to eat. Then we can discuss what to do about Duke Enrick."

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