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“Ahh,” said the man. “Lord Ceomar. We were not expecting a visit.”
“These are unusual times,” said Damon in his character voice. “If Lord Mur can spare a small amount of time, I would have words with him.”
Allison leaned closer to Kingsley and whispered, “Is that a butler or a steward?”
“Probably,” said the big guy.
“Which is it?” Allison smirked up at him.
“No idea. Probably a steward since butlers wear black.”
Allison rolled her eyes. “I think there’s more to it than the uniform.”
“Of course, your lordship,” said the man of unknown role. “Please, follow me.”
The butler-slash-steward escorted the three of them into the house, across the foyer, and down the hall to a large room containing mostly chairs, sofas, and a massive fireplace.
This looks like my aunt’s living room after she went nuts at the outlet store. Allison chuckled to herself. Her aunt couldn’t resist a bargain and, at one time, had three sofas, two recliners, and a giant wicker chair in her living room. Obviously, there’s not going to be a TV here. Ugh. What are people supposed to do for fun? Just sit and look at each other?
“I shall inform Lord Mur of your visit,” said the steward. “Please, make yourselves comfortable.”
Allison sat on the nearest sofa. Neither it, nor the house gave off as much a sense of wealth as she expected from the books. Then again, she read them quite a while ago. She wasn’t the type to re-read a series, especially these big suckers. Once was enough. They were good, yes, but she also had other books to read.
Anyway, she recalled that Nald Mur had the most wealth and power of all the nobles. While the sheer size of this house implied its owner possessed significant money, the interior decorations had a surprising plainness to them. None of these furnishings would belong in a commoner’s home, sure, but a man with the resources of Nald Mur could have gone far more extravagant.
Soon after the steward left the room, a middle-aged woman arrived bearing a tray. She offered water, wine, and small sweetbreads, which the group snacked on over the next ten minutes or so while they waited for Nald to appear...
And when he did, he barreled into the room with the energy of a suburban dad meeting his buddies at a sports bar on Super Bowl Sunday. He went straight to Damon, grinning enthusiastically while clasping forearms and pulling him into an odd shoulder-bump greeting. “Ahh, Lord Radaan Ceomar. Good to see you in one piece. Been hearing some alarming news from up there.”
Damon returned the broad smile. “I could say the same about Tarramor, Nald. I fear the crisis in my lands is connected to what’s going on here.”
Nald turned his head toward Allison and Kingsley. “Who are your companions? I do not believe I have seen them before.”
“Allow me to introduce Lord Kingsley.” Damon gestured at him. “Guests of mine, visiting from Stonnebrin.”
“Stonnebrin, you say?” Nald raised both eyebrows. “I am not aware of a Lord Kingsley.”
The big guy stepped over to Nald and repeated the forearm-grip-shoulder-bump thing Damon did. “My house is small but influential. We’re from a great distance away, here to assist with the troubles as we are able to.”
“And this, the Lady Kingsley?” Nald faced Allison and gave a slight bow of welcome.
A brief fantasy of being ‘Lady Kingsley’ sent a fair amount of blood rushing to Allison’s cheeks. If ever he and Sam broke up, oh, it would take a monumental feat of self-control to maintain the ‘girl code’ and not go after him. “No, I am…” She almost said ‘unfortunately,’ but managed to hold it in. “Not Lady Kingsley. I am Allendria, also from Stonnebrin. Seer and advisor to Lord Kingsley.”
As soon as she said ‘Allendria,’ Kingsley appeared to be fighting the need to smile.
“Ahh, grand. Let us hope your powers of sight are even half the equal of your beauty. Welcome to Frostmarch.” Nald smiled at them again before facing Damon. “Tell me, what news from the north?”
While the two nobles got into a conversation about the nature of the threatened invasion from Stonnebrin, Allison focused her psychic feelers on Nald. A few fleeting images appeared in her thoughts and vanished. The majority of the images were of a regal dark-haired woman, a younger teenage girl who resembled the woman, and two tween boys. Other images seemed to be related to his landholdings and business: grapes, crops, stacks of grain, and so forth.
Subconscious emotional cues associated with the imagery led Allison to conclude Nald Mur spent most of his time thinking about his family—wife, daughter, and sons—as well as his business providing food to the kingdom. She felt he didn’t worry so much about enriching himself, more that he worried the present unrest could make it difficult to feed people.
As Damon brought up the attempted assassination of Roldon Barathor, a few glimpses of a similar assassin flickered in the back of Allison’s mind. Evidently, Nald had been the victim of at least two attacks.
“Detestable business, that,” Nald grumbled. “This is what we get for allowing the rule of hereditary nobility. Those with power have no obligation to those without.”
“A bold position,” said Damon. “What would you offer as an alternative?”
Nald leaned closer to him. “Tell me you’d feel comfortable if Malin Normund sat on the throne.”
