Journey To Light: Part I of the High Duties of Pacia by Bob Craton
CHAPTER 12
Gildea
In the palace on Patron’s Hill, Patron Edric sat in a luxuriously cushioned chair in an elegantly-appointed room, his private contemplation room as he called it. He needed a quiet sanctuary away from the noise and stress of his daily duties, he said, where he could sit in peace and, um, well, think about things. At this moment he thought about the elaborate metal model he held in his hands. A courtier had given it to him, calling it a device demonstrating important mechanical and scientific principles which was obtained from special traders up north someplace. To an untrained eye, it might have seemed to be a clever toy suitable for a bright ten year old. When the door opened, Edric looked up to scold whoever dared to interrupt his privacy but he saw that it was the one person he could never escape.
“Oh, it’s you,” he said glumly to his wife. No guard or attendant would ever attempt to keep Gildea from intruding on him for the obvious reason that annoying the Patron was much less dangerous than incurring the wrath of the Patroness.
“Aren’t you finished playing yet, husband? There’s work to do,” Gildea snapped. Sometimes Edric became indignant when she said such things to him, but this time he just sighed. The Patroness continued, “Financial matters need to be discussed. The monthly report on tax revenues is ready and there are expenditures we need to make.”
“Can’t you and the Ministers take care of this?” he pleaded with his eyes downcast. “Money matters are so mumdained.”
It took her a moment to decipher what he meant. “You mean mundane. Yes, I will deal with everything. I just wanted to inform you. You get huffy sometimes if you feel left out.”
“I do not,” he insisted huffily. He reached to place his model on the side table and knocked off a piece of paper as he did.
“I recognize that paper. That’s another message from Euclind Eudoxio, isn’t it?”
“That? Oh, yes. First it was wild tribesmen menacing Anglio and now it’s monsters in the wasteland. The man’s got something loose inside his head.”
“You must always give me these messages as soon as they arrive, Edric. Regardless of his weaknesses, the man is brilliant. He has value even if he’s too soft,” Gildea said. “He’s not as bad as that odd little Sistére who came begging, but all that peaceful philosophy won’t last a minute when the storm breaks. Look what being kind did for Adálar. He’s dead and all his family with him.”
“The last High Protector gone,” Edric sighed. “Things were a lot nicer when we had one in Pàçia.”
“Everything comes to an end, husband, no matter how long it lasted. Besides, all those homilies were just superstition for the masses. The rightful rulers of our great Matik have never needed advice from the likes of Adálar and his predecessors.”
“All I said was that it was nicer then,” Edric protested feebly. “Some people liked having things that way.”
“That time is gone, I say, and I don’t miss it,” she snapped at him in irritation. “Now is the time for strength. Speaking of which, I’ve authorized more funding for the foundry in Adne. My man Hefaistu is nearly finished with his project.”
“Hefais . . . who?”
“The weapons-maker; don’t you remember? He copied that captured Yuzoi weapon and got an idea for making bigger and more powerful weapons. Soon we’ll be too strong for anyone to resist, even the vile Zafiri,” she said out loud but mentally she added, ‘Too much for Riviarre and Niazport also.’ With that thought, Gildea turned and left the room. The Patron picked up his model and a smile returned to his face.
Gildea
In the palace on Patron’s Hill, Patron Edric sat in a luxuriously cushioned chair in an elegantly-appointed room, his private contemplation room as he called it. He needed a quiet sanctuary away from the noise and stress of his daily duties, he said, where he could sit in peace and, um, well, think about things. At this moment he thought about the elaborate metal model he held in his hands. A courtier had given it to him, calling it a device demonstrating important mechanical and scientific principles which was obtained from special traders up north someplace. To an untrained eye, it might have seemed to be a clever toy suitable for a bright ten year old. When the door opened, Edric looked up to scold whoever dared to interrupt his privacy but he saw that it was the one person he could never escape.
“Oh, it’s you,” he said glumly to his wife. No guard or attendant would ever attempt to keep Gildea from intruding on him for the obvious reason that annoying the Patron was much less dangerous than incurring the wrath of the Patroness.
“Aren’t you finished playing yet, husband? There’s work to do,” Gildea snapped. Sometimes Edric became indignant when she said such things to him, but this time he just sighed. The Patroness continued, “Financial matters need to be discussed. The monthly report on tax revenues is ready and there are expenditures we need to make.”
“Can’t you and the Ministers take care of this?” he pleaded with his eyes downcast. “Money matters are so mumdained.”
It took her a moment to decipher what he meant. “You mean mundane. Yes, I will deal with everything. I just wanted to inform you. You get huffy sometimes if you feel left out.”
“I do not,” he insisted huffily. He reached to place his model on the side table and knocked off a piece of paper as he did.
“I recognize that paper. That’s another message from Euclind Eudoxio, isn’t it?”
“That? Oh, yes. First it was wild tribesmen menacing Anglio and now it’s monsters in the wasteland. The man’s got something loose inside his head.”
“You must always give me these messages as soon as they arrive, Edric. Regardless of his weaknesses, the man is brilliant. He has value even if he’s too soft,” Gildea said. “He’s not as bad as that odd little Sistére who came begging, but all that peaceful philosophy won’t last a minute when the storm breaks. Look what being kind did for Adálar. He’s dead and all his family with him.”
“The last High Protector gone,” Edric sighed. “Things were a lot nicer when we had one in Pàçia.”
“Everything comes to an end, husband, no matter how long it lasted. Besides, all those homilies were just superstition for the masses. The rightful rulers of our great Matik have never needed advice from the likes of Adálar and his predecessors.”
“All I said was that it was nicer then,” Edric protested feebly. “Some people liked having things that way.”
“That time is gone, I say, and I don’t miss it,” she snapped at him in irritation. “Now is the time for strength. Speaking of which, I’ve authorized more funding for the foundry in Adne. My man Hefaistu is nearly finished with his project.”
“Hefais . . . who?”
“The weapons-maker; don’t you remember? He copied that captured Yuzoi weapon and got an idea for making bigger and more powerful weapons. Soon we’ll be too strong for anyone to resist, even the vile Zafiri,” she said out loud but mentally she added, ‘Too much for Riviarre and Niazport also.’ With that thought, Gildea turned and left the room. The Patron picked up his model and a smile returned to his face.