All The King's-Men (The Yellow Hoods, #3) (31 page)

 “What was the apology for?” asked Nikolas, unable to hold back his curiosity.

“For trading the lives of Simon’s family for a small bag of gold.”

Marcus smiled and extended his hand. He was suspicious of Arthur’s arrival, as no one had ever visited any of Marcus’ residences uninvited. “Arthur, this is quite a surprise. Is Simon with you?”

Arthur smiled nervously. “No. He sent me alone, said he had some very pressing matters to attend to.” He paused, wondering if he should share some of his concerns—particularly Simon’s emotional state when he left—but figured it was unbecoming of his role. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Lord Pieman—”

Marcus raised an eyebrow.

“Marcus.” Arthur glanced past him to the slightly familiar-looking, bald, bearded man. It took him a minute before he realized the man was the one from the painting Simon had recently put back up in the hallway leading to his study. They exchanged nods.

“Now, Arthur,” said Marcus, motioning for Cleeves to follow him, “don’t take this the wrong way, as you are always welcome, but why are you here?”

Cleeves tapped his vest, handing his long coat to a servant. “Simon had a letter he needed me to give you in person. He was quite… insistent on it.”

“Why didn’t he send it by Neumatic Tube?” asked Nikolas, grabbing their attention. It was clear from Cleeves’ reaction that the same question was on both of their minds.

“Well?” asked Marcus, folding his arms.

Cleeves glanced at the nearly invisible servants about. “If we could discuss all of this in private, I’d feel more comfortable.”

“Come,” said Marcus, leading the way.

His balcony office was a beautifully decorated large room, with bookcases along the left wall, and pictures and shelves with objects of art on the right. There was a beautiful, yet clearly unused, drawing table, a mahogany desk, and a sitting area for six with high-backed chairs by a fireplace. Huge windows framed a set of double doors that led to a massive raised balcony overlooking the central garden.

“Would you mind opening those, Nikolas? The air in here is a bit stuffy,” said Marcus. He rarely used the office for anything other than formal meetings.

Nikolas opened the balcony doors and a chill ran down his spin as he caught a glimpse of the old Fare symbol etched into the grand garden. He leaned against one of the large windowpanes and returned his attention to Marcus and Cleeves.

Marcus’ charm melted away, leaving a stern face and a palpable, intimidating presence. “Arthur,” he said sharply, “you still haven’t told me why you are here. I understand there’s a letter, and I appreciate you confirming that Simon’s been out and about while pretending to be at home, but I don’t understand why you have been sent.”

Arthur reached into his red vest’s breast pocket. “Simon insisted that I deliver this to you personally. He said it was a matter of life and death. He wanted to ensure there was no opportunity for anyone to intercept it. That’s why he didn’t want to send the message by tube or anyone else.”

Marcus glared at Arthur suspiciously as he held out the beige envelope with its blue stamped seal. Marcus picked up a small bronze knife off his desk, ready to take and open the letter, and then stopped. He crossed his arms and leaned back against his desk. The tension in the room went up a notch.

 “Oh, it doesn’t require a blade,” said Cleeves. “He’s using a rather weak wax these days.” He held out the letter again.

Marcus stared at the letter, several feet away. He found it odd that Arthur was so afraid that he seemed to be rooted to the spot. He seemed neither curious about what the letter said, nor comfortable being there. Marcus was surprised that Cleeves wasn’t taking any enjoyment from being away from Simon or his usual confines. “Cleeves, I don’t have my monocle on me. Would you mind opening it and reading it to me? You can trust Nikolas here.”

Nikolas hid his reaction by glancing out the window. He knew very well that Marcus could read without his monocle. “I hope this isn’t more pointless news about the Staaten royalty,” sniped Marcus.

Arthur nervously stared at Nikolas and then at Marcus. “Um, are you aware that there’s a new regent in Staaten, and that she has annexed Elizabetina?”

“What?” yelled Marcus, standing up. “When did this happen?”

“Several days ago,” said Arthur, each word petering out more quietly than the previous one.

Marcus was about to reach out and snatch the letter from Arthur’s hand in rage, when he caught Nikolas’ subtle gesture to calm down. Leaning against his desk once again, Marcus rubbed his face and folded his arms. “Read it please, Arthur,” he commanded. “I’m in no mood.”

Arthur cracked the letter’s seal and gave the papers inside, which appeared to be stuck, a tug. White powder flew into the air and all over Cleeves’ face.

Marcus’ eyes went wide. Without thinking, he tackled Nikolas onto the balcony. Nikolas’ head hit the stone balcony floor with a wet thud. Marcus scrambled to his feet and glanced back at Arthur.

The old man was on the ground, grabbing his throat, his eyes shut tight. Marcus watched helplessly as Arthur gasped his last breaths.

Suddenly one of the white towers exploded at its base, followed by another explosion, and then a third. Marcus shielded himself and Nikolas from the small pieces of rocks that showered down. Marcus could hear the screams of servants coming from everywhere as more explosions followed.

A minute later, his ears ringing, Marcus wiped the dust from his face and peered through the haze. The sun sliced through with red afternoon light upon the scene of destruction. He dragged his gaze, absorbing everything, until he came upon Nikolas laying there, unconscious. Marcus tapped his face gently. “Nikolas, wake up.” After a couple of gentle shakes, he shook his old friend vigorously. “Nikolas, wake up! Wake up! Nikolas!”

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Faith in Family

Amami slid off the emerald-blue, armored, mechanical warhorse. She opened its mouth, reached in, and flipped a switch. With a series of sharp jerks and grinding clicks, it stopped vibrating and became silent, its head bowing as it shut down. As was tradition, she gave it a pat and thanked it for its service.

Removing a gauntlet, she felt the heart-panel for heat and nodded, satisfied. She then took off her other gauntlet and her helmet, and hung them on small hooks on the back of her King’s-Horse. 

Straightening up, Amami took a deep breath, steeling herself for the task ahead. She hadn’t been home in two years, and she knew that her mother would disapprove of her visit just as much as she had on the previous occasions.

She turned her gaze to her run-down family home. There was still some bamboo growing around the small, one-level house. It had once been a huge home, a lush oasis on the arid plains in the foothills of the Eastern Mountains. As hope and purpose had been lost and rooms had fallen into disrepair, they had been amputated, until there remained only the one room. The mechanisms that had brilliantly fed the flora from springs deep below the surface had all but ceased working. It always looked worse than Amami imagined.

She gently pushed the door open, revealing the ten-foot-by-fifteen-foot room behind it. Amami quietly took off her boots and carefully placed her rifle and sword on the floor beside them. She nudged them until they were in perfectly alignment, allowing her to breathe more easily.

An old woman rocked in the far corner, staring out the sole window at the distant mountains. She glanced at Amami momentarily, her wispy white hair and sunken face showing how unkind the past two years had been, before returning to the window. 

The Eastern Mountains were captivating, even to Amami, who had grown up at their feet. She’d heard tales about what it was like on the other side, and the incredible journey her mother had taken, crossing them. She’d intended to return after repairing her flying machine, but then she’d met Amami’s father and life had changed, and then changed again.

Amami noticed the bowl of food with chopsticks on the top of it and a clay mug for cold tea on a table near her mother. She was thankful that the people from the nearby village were continuing to check in on the old woman. 

The irrigation systems her mother had built for them long ago still worked as well as the day she’d made them, and they now took care of her as she had once them. Amami had fond childhood memories of her mother working on it and other things. 

Silently, Amami shuffled over to the small jute rug beside her mother’s rocking chair, and knelt down. She sat there, her head bowed, waiting. 

After an eternity, her mother turned and whispered in a dry, cracked voice, “It is good to see you, Amami. I had wished to say goodbye.”

She smiled and took her mother’s hand, tears in her eyes. “There is no need to say goodbye, mother. I have brought important news.” She looked at her mother’s thin, pale face. Amami knew how her ancestors thought starving one’s self to death cleansed the soul of sins, but she hated the idea, as her father had.

Her mother’s face turned sour and she snapped her hand back. She returned her gaze to the peaceful mountains. “Important news… you always say that when you are about to throw away your life and chase after another rumor, a lie someone has said to make you feel there is hope. There is no hope,” rebuked her mother.

Amami’s expression hardened as she took her mother’s hand again. “I have heard that a warrior boy from over the mountains is in a prison to the west.”

“Again? You lost your position with the Tyrol army over such a lie once. You threw away an engagement to a good merchant’s son for another. You have thrown away things that
matter
, and now, after rebuilding your life again, you seek to throw it all away once more. Each time you return from such foolery, you are more broken than before. I want nothing of it.”

“But mother—“

Snapping at her daughter, she said, “We are not the only ones from over the mountain!”

“But I am told he has blue eyes,” said Amami firmly.

The skeletal woman turned her stony, pained gaze on her twenty-year-old daughter. “You want to travel the world again to find out that there is no end to the rainbow? Your brother is gone. I built what they demanded. I built them a new Hotaru and they could have sailed over the mountains, all so that they could return him, but they didn’t. They lied. He is dead. He has been dead a long time. Let it go. You deserve to be happy and have peace.”

 Amami shook her head. “This comes from someone I trust deeply. This is true.”

“It cannot be!”

“But we never buried him! We never got his body back. He is still out there,” pleaded Amami.

“Your father used to say that, and he died for it. You have thrown away more chances at a happy life than I can count. It was my failing, and mine alone. Do me proud and lead an honorable, happy life. Let his memory live through your life,” she said sorrowfully. She was too worn out, too dehydrated, and too scarred inside to cry anymore. 

Amami stood up angrily and glared at the broken, old woman. “I came here to ask, as foolish as it seemed, if you wanted to join me in finding him. But if you prefer to die, then do so. Die in shame rather than live in redemption!”

“You are a fool and will die a fool’s death, Amami. Leave me to my peace.” The old woman peeked out of the corner of her eye as her daughter reclaimed her boots and weapons. She was secretly proud of her daughter, but she feared Amami would drive herself off the ends of Eorthe for her mother’s sins. 

With her hand on the door, Amami turned back to her mother, who was staring out the window once again, and said, “I will never stop until I find Riichi. He is my only family now.”

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The story continues in
Book 4 - Beauties of the Beast
! And don’t miss
Snappy & Dashing
- A Yellow Hoods Companion Tale
, the novelette that follows Richelle Pieman after book 2!

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

In 2014, Adam burst onto the indie author scene, putting an end to over 25 years of writing short stories that few ever saw. The Yellow Hoods series quickly became a best seller. In 2015, he became a full-time author and put aside his 20-year-long career as a software architect.