Record of Ashes War

Chapter 13 - Brown Hair

Two crows were perched on the branches of a barren tree, watching. They cawed.

Agrienne's boots crunched upon a thin sheet of snow. He rubbed his hands together, regretting not having brought a pair of gloves. No. Regretting having agreed to a walk so early in the morning. His breath came out in puffs of clouds that disappeared as quickly as the warm months of the year. Sowing season and summer lasted just long enough for people to admire their beauty, and then left, disappearing into the night like a fleeting maiden, leaving a gaping hole in the heart through which cold wind flowed. Just like my Lera…

Agrienne hated the cold.

Fingers pressed down on his bicep. He had forgotten about the person walking alongside him, their voice drowned by his crunching boots and the crows they'd left behind some time ago. The cawing still echoed in his mind.

"Don't you agree?" Valencia asked.

"Hmm?" said Agrienne.

"The snow. Isn't it beautiful? Sparkling like a sea of white gems, a sweetness covering the ground just as frosting sugar on a cake."

Agrienne glanced down at the baker's daughter. Valencia stood a full head shorter than him. She was nearing thirty, if he recalled correctly. Not particular to his palate, but she'd served well as a stand in for Lera for a good half dozen years. The peasants were more at ease too, seeing him take a lowly lover. Her lush oak colored hair hung over one shoulder. She had a round face and a small nose, making her seem younger than she actually was. Beneath a thick cloak, Valencia wore a violet dress that Agrienne had gifted to her. A dress that hugged her curves —of which she had quite a satisfactory amount— and reached down to her ankles, covering the tops of a pair of silver boots decorated with crystal gems —another gift. Valencia was lovely. But she was no Lera. No one was. No one would be.

Agrienne looked to the Caranel graveyard as the two of them crested a hill and approached his manor. "Yes. Very lovely," he said. He tried picking up the pace to the manor, the cold becoming rather unbearable. He had to clench his teeth to stop them from chattering. Valencia tugged the sleeve of his royal blue coat, as if signaling him to slow down. Agrienne bit his tongue. Who are you to tell me what to do, he almost yelled. He looked down at the basket in Valencia's other hand. A folded cloth covered what it held. "Isn't the bread getting cold?" he asked. The girl normally brought him fresh bread every time she came for a visit.

Valencia blushed. "I didn't bring bread today, silly."

Agrienne waited for her to tell him what she did bring. He rolled his eyes when she spoke no further, clenching fists, knuckles cracking. "What did you bring?" he hissed. It came out like a soft, loving whisper. It wasn't his intent. But he was grateful for it.

"Cakes! Tomorrow's the harvest festival. Father's already preparing for it. I snuck some out this morning. Just for you."

"Ah." The festival. Agrienne had forgotten. He would be expected at the town of Red Vine tomorrow, if only to show his face and convince the peasants that all was well… Turned out his half-sister, Noreen, had more favor with the commoners than he'd been aware of.

"You do like cakes, don't you? You don't look all that excited for them."

"Of course, love. I'm was merely wondering what dish would go well with the greatest dessert to ever exist. I'm not sure there are many lunch options for it. Unless, of course, you'd like to join me for dinner, Valencia?" he smiled down at her. "Maybe even a little past dinner?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Sorry. Father will be expecting me. Lots to help out with for tomorrow. I was more thinking we could skip a formal lunch. You know, just eat cakes instead. In your room. Just the two of us…" she drifted off, cheeks alight. She avoided his gaze.

Agrienne slipped an arm around her waist. His eyes caressed her beautiful brown hair. A deep brown just as Lera's hair had been. His lips parted. He almost said her name aloud, but bit his tongue before he could.

No one would ever replace Lera.

But Agrienne could at least imagine it. Valencia had both hair and body. She was only missing the face. He pulled her closer to him. "I take that back. Cakes are the second greatest of all desserts."

***

Valencia flashed one last smile as she descended down the grand staircase of the Caranel manor. Agrienne watched her go down, staring at her dancing hair as she leapt from the last three steps and landed on the floor with knees bent. She skipped to the door just as a loud knock resounded within the manor. Valencia froze.

Agrienne scowled. Who could possibly be visiting? And who would dare to be rude enough to knock like a brute. The banging continued. "Guards!" Agrienne cried. Two guards wearing grey coats with House Caranel's emblem —a white elk— over their hearts rushed to the door. Agrienne left to retrieve a sword. He descended down the stairs, blade drawn. Valencia stood behind him, her hands clasped together. The guards opened the door and stepped away, swords in hand as well.

Three people stood in the doorway. Two armed men and a brown haired woman. The men seemed normal guards, leather armor and plain but polished helms on their heads. The woman, whose heels allowed her to stand equal in height with Agrienne, wore a coat of pure black with a matching skirt stopping just before her ankles. She had a lotus flower brooch at the high collar around her neck and carried a thick tome in one hand.

"What, may I ask took so long to open the door," the woman began, ignoring the drawn blades. Her brown hair had been tied back in a bun. She crossed her arms and raised her head. If arrogance was a person, this woman might be it. "It is quite rude to leave someone outside in the cold."

"Ruder yet to bang on my door like a pack of Virk barbarians," Agrienne countered. He waved his hand. The guards backed away. He kept his own weapon in hand.

"Your door?" The woman sniffed, stepping inside and examining the manor's interior. "The Caranel's are still at their own throats then… To think I'd be dealing with the bastard. Well, let's get on with it then. I'd rather not spend a second longer in these siphoning lands. I, Elyin Selene, am a Collector on behalf of the crown. It's been over a year and a half since the queen has received taxes from High House Caranel."

Tax collectors…"There's nothing to pay. Dahlia should—"

"That's her majesty, Queen Dahlia, Agrienne," Elyin corrected.

Agrienne narrowed his eyes. His sword hand twitched. "Lord Agrienne Caranel."

"Wrong again. Bastards cannot inherit titles. They can only be granted them by their direct superiors or the crown."

Agrienne struggled to maintain his calm. He took deep breaths. His eyes lingered on Elyin's brown hair. He forced an image of Lera into his mind to restrain his anger. "There no longer are any superiors. I am the last of the Caranels." No… Not the last. Lera has my child. Our child.

Elyin raised an eyebrow. "The last… Well, in that case, her majesty will need to be notified. Rest assured. Your position will not come under threat unless you give the crown a reason to doubt your abilities to lead. Now. You were saying something about payments?"

"Yes. Before being interrupted by a mere commoner," Agrienne began, hoping to see an agitated expression. Elyin maintained neutrality. His own eyebrows furrowed. "Her majesty should be well aware of our situation. The infighting of House Caranel has seen to our resources being exhausted. I've much work left before me in order to revive these lands. I'm afraid we don't have excess revenue on which to pay taxes."

"Well, I hope you'll forgive me, then, for not believing a Caranel's words. I'd rather not spend a single second more here, but for the sake of her majesty, I must be thorough. Surely, Agrienne, you have documents proving expenditures and earnings. I'll go through them myself and decide whether any payments need be made. I suspect it may take a few days."

Agrienne was at his limit. He wanted to kill the woman then and there. He stepped forward, eyes flickering to the two guards behind her. Valencia stepped before him.

"Lord Caranel is an honest, and kind man!" she cried. "I can vouch for him as a resident of Red Vine. I'm sure the townsmen will agree too. I don't know much about nobility. But he absolutely cannot be replaced. We'll not have it!"

Elyin crossed her arms. "You poor thing…" she muttered. "Is this your new toy, Agrienne? A little older for your tastes, I thought. Can it even read? I wonder what lies you've told it."

Valencia flushed. She clutched Agrienne's arm. "I-I can read. I'm not like the others. My father—"

Agrienne pushed the baker's daughter away. "Few days you said. Hmph." He stepped to the side, gesturing with his free hand towards the staircase. I guess I've little choice but to lend you and your guards a few rooms.

Elyin narrowed her eyes. She glared at Agrienne for a while before finally motioning for her guards to follow her up the staircase.

Agrienne waited for them to walk past him. Waited until their backs were turned. Then, he cleaved one guardsman's neck in two. No one turned around. Not until the headless body fell to the floor, the head rolling away, leaving a trail of red. Valencia screamed. Elyin gasped, backing away and tripping on the first step of the stairs. The second of her guards half drew his blade before finding himself impaled by Agrienne's sword.

"You… You're mad!" Elyin stammered. She tried pulling herself up, using the railings as support. She fell back on her rear again, struggling to find balance because of her long heels.

Valencia continued to scream. Agrienne backhanded her, causing her to fall. "Shut up!" he yelled. "Someone escort this wench back to Red Vine!" he walked up to Elyin, smiling wickedly. He raised his sword and held it above her head. She trembled. His first thought was to put the sword through her mouth. Silence her forever. His gaze flickered to her brown hair.

Lera…

A drop of blood trailed down the sword's edge and dripped onto Elyin's forehead. Agrienne's leering gaze examined her entirety, his sword following, the very tip slicing open the center of her black coat. She would do nicely. "I'll show you just how well a bastard can lead," he said. "Do take notes. I assure you, I'm very thorough. Just as you prefer. Ah, and don't forget to pay your taxes for the service you're about to provide me with."