The Shining Wyrm

6.5

Jewel thought she had become accustomed to the role of welcomed under the rules of hospitality and feasts. They had already been guests at four households on the journey over.

Ironically, the first with Abbot Herbort’s had been the largest. The similarity to a temple's room for congregations had been an astute observation of Jewel as she later learned that was its primary purpose according to Tsulogothulan.

But Countess Bathory’s feasting hall was larger than even the Abbot’s had been! If by just a bit.

The halls were dominated by the tallest glass windows Jewel had ever seen. Letting in the last shine of golden red light. But to supplement that light was something Jewel had never seen before.

Four shining works of art. Sculpted of practically glowing yellow metal and glass intermingled with fine near white burning candles. The scent of beeswax only faintly drifted down to the tables below. Most of it pulled up to the center of the ceiling to join a column of heat.

They hung by glittering chains and filled the room in illumination so well Jewel suspected there must be some spell in their making at work.

Further adding to the light of the Countess’ Hall was a solid hearth down the middle, made of more of that pale stone. But carved in reliefs showing the marching of armies and Gryphons against the insurmountably vast serpent of the Tyrant Wyrm.

Merry bright crackling coals glittered in reds and oranges and sizzled with the fat of ten full pigs turning on a spit.

If Jewel’s nose did not betray her they had been stuffed with turnip and apple, glazed in some kind of sauce made of honey, cream and of the most delicious spices she had ever smelled. The scent was sweet, rich and crackling like fire, almost floral but yet unplaceable in its novelty.

Whatever it was dyed each of the full sows a richly bright orange that reminded her of a setting sun.

And around the hearth and its deliciously roasting bounty were set the tables.

There were three, and each of them were larger than Rochford’s largest and more solidly built besides, with the thinnest of them set upon its own dais with only one side of seating facing out into the hallway.

This highest table was where The Countess Bathory, Father and the strange man in black robes with red embroidery were seated. Joining them were another four figures Jewel did not recognize by scent or sight, clad in a similar level of finery to Father’s own best feasting garb.

naturally, the Countess was in the center in the finest carved seat.

On the right to the Countess was a chair equal to hers in height and artistry but distinctly and notably empty.

Father was seated to the right of the auspicious empty seat. And then to the Countess’s left was the black robed man with the disturbingly straight hair.

The rest of the places were filled in by the strangers in garb of comparable opulence but considering their placement they were almost certainly favored positions in the Countess’ court or direct vassals such as Father.

On the table to the countess’ right was where Jewel had been given all of one side of the table for herself. A luxuriantly expansive affair that provided freedom to lounge in poised grace and absolute regal dignity just as Mother had taught her.

Rather than a seat, she had been allowed to lay on the quite well-hewn stone floor with the wonderful delight of an excellently woven carpet at least ninety winters old to soften it!

Across from where Jewel had a plate and a full pitcher of wine was Tsulogothulan. A position which might have been an attempt to make it awkward for the Bog wizard to turn and observe the high table but in practice just meant that everyone present got a direct demonstration of the fact that Tsulogothulan considered rigid skeletal posture a polite suggestion that would be ignored if at all inconvenient.

Jewel was not even entirely sure the Bog Weird had any bones but if they did they were soggy and supple as fresh shoots.

Following from Tsulogothulan’s left was Kraok and then the man that Jewel suspected was one of the two Gryphon Rider knights that served directly under The Countess, his dinning finery matching another man that given his matching build was very likely the other one.

Descending down from that were another four people who were quite obviously in descending importance and not worth noticing.

Bromthil had not managed to secure the honor of dining directly with the Countess. But given he had no peerage to be spoken of alongside those that were, it was probably for the best.

After all, it's not like Jewel would have insisted poor Smithson attended because he was her squire.

Although… Was she supposed to do that?

He was supposed to be of an associative rank and aide for her after all. But a stable boy was definitely not prepared to hold himself with the correct bearing for a feast such as this.

Yet still it seemed wrong to doom him to eternal squirehood, the position was supposed to be one that came with a prospect of Knighthood in the future!

Jewel wished that the Countess would call the feast to begin. She could smell the wine slowly going warm in her pitcher.

And the hissing of delicious pork fat was sizzling into the air from the hearths.

It had been a long time since the mid day meal and she had done a long flight near her limit on speed. It made the Wyrm rather peckish and seeking distraction with her thoughts.

Jewel probably should see if there was something more she could do for Smithson. She would ask Father when she next had the chance.

Just where was the one meant to sit beside Countess Bathory? It was very rude of them to be late.

With a chime of her dining knife to a perfectly clear glass chalice half filled with a deep red wine the Countess drew everyone’s attention and then straightened herself to speak.

The seat beside her was still disturbingly empty in its prominence.

“Guests, my Trusted vassals. You are here in my hall tonight because you are in one way or another the heart and bone of the armies of Viznove. With the arrival of Baron Rochford we are all here and together at last.”

She raised her incredibly clear glass to the air and together Jewel joined all others present in raising their own less pristine drinking vessels.

Jewel took an appreciative sip from her pitcher after the countess lowered her challice.

It was faintly sweet but also bitter as well! Very rich indeed! This one had been aged in a venerable cask cut from a fine oak tree, she was sure of it.

Jewel could taste that the wood had felt the touch of the grape juice as it ripened at least three winters before the wine grew disoriented as it was moved to the practically newly born clay bottles.

The hint of a whisper of its age and life danced with the grapes and their spirits as they flowed over her tongue.

The Countess Bathory continued her speech as was proper for a Lady of her stature.

“And now here secure in my demesne I can at last reveal what could not be sent by wing or rider, before we can feast and fill our bellies on fine food and flame our hearts with fine wine, there are matters of grave importance for all of Viznove.”

Jewel was not alone in lowering her wine to the table to look intently at the Countess.

Father was also considering her from across the still auspiciously empty chair.

“It has come to my ears that honorless traitors among our neighbors in the Realm and even King Matthias himself have conspired to see me tried unjustly and deposed from my titles as both Countess of Viznove and your rightfully pledged liege.”

There was a sudden stillness in everyone there.

“This affront is not only undertaken despite the service I and my only recently passed husband count Nádasdy gave to the Realm. But is being plotted to be done in his name!”

She took what might at first be a fortifying sip of her wine.

But there was a hard look of fury in her eyes.

“You all know me, some of you flew under my late count’s banner when the Magarska attempted to claim Viznove in conquest.”

She turned to look directly into Jewel’s eyes.

“I will not stand by and let Matthias and Thurzó unseat me for invented atrocities.”

She turned to fix Father with a look that hinted at more that would be said later. Then she turned to sweep the entire feast hall. Voice clear and strong.

“All we have built together is at risk, Thurzó is a pet of the King, an honorless coward that licks Mathias’ boots if so ordered. If I am deposed on these charges he will dissolve all promises and assurances I have given you. He will carve Viznove and its baronies apart. Parcel your lands to his cronies.”

She raised the glass high.

“But I will not stand for this affront to my honor, nor the depravations of your trust in me and our pacts of loyalty generations strong! Come this next year upon the warmth of the first summer’s light shall be a full muster of the armies of Viznove. I am declaring independence before the traitor king can move against me. If our neighbors are honorable they shall join us in our war against the realm’s tyranny!”

She drained the wine glass and then settled her gaze upon Jewel with a toothy grin.

“But do not fear, even without them we shall be victorious. The realm may be vast, but we have been its shield against Magarska for two hundred years. Before that it was the same blood in our veins which struck down the Tyrant Wyrm.”

Everyone else in the feasting hall was also looking at Jewel now. And she could already guess the words that were coming from that alone.

“And now we have a Dragon of our own: Jewel Shining Wyrm of Viznove!”

There were cheers and Jewel could not do anything but to bow and acknowledge the honor the Countess was bringing.

But not even the wonderful smell of the feast as staff took to carving out portions from the pigs or carrying heaping trays of pies and vegetables and cakes could entice her appetite.

Her stomach felt like she had filled it with lodestone.

Only as everyone was digging into their portions and drinking deeply of their cups did she catch the look of painful regret in Father’s eyes.