In the Year of 3044, in the Month of Planter, on the 9th Day . . . Blah, blah . . . Let it be known to all who read or hear these words that on this day, a solemn bond of loyalty and obedience is forged between the undersigned:
Lord Ulmar Hreban, Baron of the Realm, Lord of Lower Berem, Vaterna, . . . title-title-title . . . (hereinafter referred to as The Liege)
and
Dorr Tillmar, a mercenary of sound mind and unwavering resolve (hereinafter referred to as The Sworn).
What . . . I read out loud. “The Sworn pledges unwavering loyalty to the Liege, agreeing to carry out all commands given, without question or hesitation. This oath includes, but is not limited to:
Engaging in acts of violence or subterfuge as directed.
Carrying out deeds that may contravene the laws of the kingdom, provided such acts serve the Liege’s interests.
Protecting the Liege’s life, holdings, and secrets at all costs, even to the peril of the Sworn . . .”
I glanced at Tillmar.
He sighed.
I skipped ahead. “Article II: Secrecy and Discretion. The Sworn shall safeguard the existence and terms of this pledge with absolute secrecy. Any revelation of the contract’s nature to any third party shall be deemed an act of betrayal. Should such betrayal occur, the Sworn forfeits all rights to life and property . . .”
Gort swore under his breath.
“It gets better.” I kept reading. “The Sworn acknowledges that their service absolves the Liege of all culpability for the actions carried out under this agreement. No word, act, or failure of the Sworn may be attributed to the Liege in any formal or informal proceedings, nor used to implicate him in wrongdoing.”
“That’s not a pledge of loyalty,” Will growled. “It’s a slave contract.”
“It is. This oath is to remain in effect for the entirety of the Sworn’s natural life or until the Liege sees fit to release the Sworn from service. The only way out is to die in service of Ulmar Hreban.”
“And what does he get for signing his life away?” Everard asked.
“In return for this fealty, the Liege shall grant:
A monthly stipend of 128 dens, to be disbursed on the first day of each month.
Lodging, arms, and provisions necessary for the Sworn to complete the Liege’s tasks.”
Tillmar looked down at his feet.
“That’s four dens a day,” Lute said. “I get five.”
“You’re not me,” Tillmar said. “You still have your good name.”
“This is . . . There had to be something else out there,” Gort said.
“There wasn’t,” Tillmar said, his voice tired and bitter.
It wasn’t that Hreban was asking for something unexpected. When a person pledged their loyalty to their liege, it was understood that they would do all the liege required even if it cost them their life. It was the way he had gone about it.
Most people wanted something to believe in, and when they found it, they gave it their trust. It was as true in this world as in ours. Back home, people went above and beyond for the company that employed them, hoping they would be treated well and fairly compensated. They gave to charity, directing their money to help someone who needed it most. They voted, expecting those they elected to look after their interests. All of these human transactions hinged on trust.
Pledging your loyalty took that trust and pushed it a step further. When you swore an oath to your liege, that oath was a double-edged sword. The sworn promised to lay down their life should the liege require it, but the liege swore to defend and value the sworn. The oath served as a mutual promise of protection, a matter of honor and integrity. Choosing to pledge yourself was a decision of grave importance, and it required respect and dignity from everyone involved.
This contract reduced that pledge of loyalty to a financial transaction. Tillmar promised absolute obedience and Hreban promised nothing except prompt payment. Will was right. Tillmar had sold himself.
Why even write this at all? It wasn’t enforceable or legally binding. Moreover, a pledge of loyalty required witnesses. If the sworn betrayed their vow, those who were there would know of their shame. This contract was completely secret. It forbade Tillmar from even mentioning its existence.
Did Hreban just get off on having it in writing? He clearly valued this oath, judging by the paper. It was thick, with strands of silver thread woven through. The “good stuff” from my study didn’t even come close.
