He kissed Violet on the cheek and set her to her feet, swiftly heading out of the cottage. He could hear the yelling starting up again and almost turned back, but thought better of it. He’d only be a few minutes, just to see what this visitor wanted of him.
As he was a member of the Septum Port Alliance, it could be anything.
Business for the Earl of Sidbury took many forms. It wasn’t just that he was a trainer at Blackchurch. As the leader of the Septum Port Alliance, the hereditary seat for the Earl of Sidbury as a founding member, he’d had to catch up very quickly on port business those years ago. Fortunately, he’d taken to it easily, but it was one of the most difficult group of responsibilities he’d ever encountered, not the least of which had to do with the pirates who liked to ravage the ports.
That was where it became interesting.
Because of his connections to Blackchurch, Triton’s Hellions and the Demons of the Sea now gave a wide berth to all of the ports connected with the alliance, but in order to do so, they were paid an annual tribute. All of the port lords had readily agreed to that simply to avoid the raids and destruction that could be so costly. Medusa’s Disciples was another group that avoided Sidmouth, but they had been known to harass some of the others.
The biggest problem was a group known as Kraken’s Horde, an Irish faction, whom none of the port lords had had any luck in formalizing an agreement with. Creston had been trying for about ten years, but so far, there had been no progress. As a result, he’d doubled the army at Axen Castle and built two stone garrisons down by the beach to ward off any raids.
But he had a secret weapon.
Given that Sidmouth was a port city, it saw its share of ships from all over the known world. About five years ago, he’d been given the opportunity to purchase something called a “sleeve”—it was an iron tube, essentially, that could be mounted to a wall. Using a rare powder from the east called serpentine, or fire medicine, one could ignite the powder and fire a projectile, usually a smooth iron ball, straight into a ship and damage it. Even though it was terribly unpredictable in its accuracy, the truth was that if it hit its mark, it could be very destructive. Creston was the only one in all of England who had such a thing, so ever since he acquired it, any pirate faction had avoided Sidmouth like the plague.
Creston was proud of himself for it.
Naturally, men had been trying to replicate the sleeve or buy it from him ever since. That had him wondering if the visitor in the gatehouse was yet another man attempting to buy what he had, perhaps a knight sent from a rich lord, wanting to know what his price was. The truth was that he had no price and, already, Kristian’s cogs on Lake Cocytus carried four sleeves that had been made by Blackchurch smithies. Blackchurch had what so many others wanted, and if it weren’t so difficult to make what the serpentine required, they might even have more.
Such was progress in the military world.
Creston’s mind was on his valuable sleeve as he entered the gatehouse. The commander in charge pointed him to the guard room, and he entered the large, somewhat comfortable roombuilt into the gatehouse itself. There were a couple of guards there, and a big knight standing near the hearth. The guards pointed to the knight before vacating the area, and Creston approached the man.
“I am de Royans,” he said. “You wish to see me?”
The man turned to him. He was young, slightly taller than Creston, with long blond hair and blue eyes. When their gazes met, the knight just stared at him for a moment before breaking down into a weak smile.
“I do,” he said. “My name is Theo de Betheny. You would not recognize that name, I do not think, but I serve the Comte d’Anjou.”
Creston nodded in understanding. “Louis’ youngest son,” he said. “You serve in France?”
“I was raised there, my lord.”
“Charles is still quite young, as I recall.”
De Betheny nodded. “He is, my lord,” he said. “He has seen seven years.”
Creston grunted. “I have a seven-year-old son,” he said. “I cannot imagine a boy that age having such a great responsibility, even with regents.”
De Betheny agreed with him. “Much is expected of royal children, I suppose,” he said. “My role is in commanding the comte’s household. I am in command of his military force and bodyguards. Though it is small, it is important.”
Creston couldn’t help but feel as if he’d met this young knight before. There was something familiar about him. “I see,” he said. “And what, may I ask, have you come to speak with me about? Does this have to do with Sidmouth?”
The knight shook his head. “Nay, my lord.”
“Then what is your business?”
“I’ve not come on business,” de Betheny said. “I’ve come on an errand of a rather personal nature. I told the gate guard why, but I do not suppose you recognize the name?”
“What name?”
“Mary.”
“Who is Mary?”
“My mother.”
Creston wasn’t making the connection at that point. He was about to ask the knight’s business yet again when a light went on in his mind. Mary. Of course, he’d known that name from long ago. Very long ago. So long ago he’d buried that memory.
