King Ludlum’s top general—the man credited with savingHawkvalefrom total ruination when Baldur ofMiddlelandinvaded its sunny dales.A man revered, almostas much as Ludlum was (and he would have been more, if such wasn’t consideredtreason).
It was, of course, Ludlum’s son (and now their king), whoeventually wrested the lands Baldur managed to conquer from that despot.
However, it was known by all that if it wasn’t for Dalton,the whole ofHawkvalewould have fallen to Baldur.
And it wasthatDalton who sought an alliance withthe House of Derryman twenty-six years ago.
But even Edgar could not foresee that horrible accident (anditwasan accident—any father would wish to teach his daughter how toride a horse, it wasn’thisfault she couldn’t control the damnedthing).
He focused again on the image of his wife.
She had hidden from him her weakness of character, a flawthat ran deep.In fact, in the end, she brayed of it so incessantly, it had tostop.
Of course, as she obviously took great pains to do this, hecould never predict how she would react to the accident.
But that was done, and she was now gone, his daughter(mostly) out of sight and mind in order that he could get on with his life.
However, that life did take a turn for the better.
Clearly no one could foresee what would happen to themarkets when a curse hit the land.
With the fantastical things that occurred, not even hisstable of rats could assist him.
And thensome timelater, when hewas finally digging himself out from under the variety of fiascos he, and themen he advised, found himself in, some Beast across the Green Sea rears up andpanics the entire planet.Only for the result of the vanquishing of thatcreature to be trade routes opening that no one ever imagined would clear, andFirenz,Airenzian,Dellishand Marish goods flooding the market.
There were opportunities everywhere.
He couldn’t stay on top of it, no matter how many rats herecruited.
Edgar, of course, had contingencies in place, and he may nothave advised his clients to do the same (for if they held money back, he wouldhave less of their money to invest in his schemes, and in turn would make lesshimself).
But any man knew to protect his estate.It wasn’t Edgar’sfault they listened to him when he advisedall in(and perhapssometimes his advice could better be described as coercion, but he didn’tregard it that way).
Many of his clients had been ruined.
He was called The Dealmaker no longer.
Once, every door was open to him.He’d arrive, a cheer wouldrise, and a glass of the best whisky was placed in his hand.They’d be fallingall over themselves to pat him on the back, sit close to his side and be warmedby his brilliant, unfailing light.
Now, he hadn’t had a dinner invitation in two years.Ballsthat were often held in his honor happened without him even knowing they’d beenscheduled.Conferences that he’d keynote he was blacklisted from attending.
He was rich.He had more than enough money, he’d never bepoor.
But he was a pariah.
And you couldn’t makemoremoney unless peoplewould accept your investments.
They wouldn’t even accept his letters.
Heneededthis alliance with the House of Dalton.
Heneededhis name linked with someone of suchimpeccable pedigree and reputation as Lord Ansley Copeland.
The doors would open to the father of a duchess, thegrandfather of a future duke.
From the moment Edgar completed the flourish on hissignature on that betrothal contract, he knew that was the next step togreatness.
Thatwould be his legacy.
