Total pages in book: 222
Estimated words: 210715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1054(@200wpm)___ 843(@250wpm)___ 702(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 210715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1054(@200wpm)___ 843(@250wpm)___ 702(@300wpm)
“The village didn’t resist openly, but the first night there, Pelegrin lost two of his soldiers. He found them in the morning with their throats slit. The next night he lost another to poison, then two more to hunting arrows. The Empire’s forces were nowhere near the village. This was a homegrown rebellion. Pelegrin gathered everyone in the town square and told them that the next time one of his soldiers was killed or harmed, he would take the life of a villager. A life for a life. He hoped it would stop.”
“It didn’t,” Berengur guessed.
“They didn’t believe him,” I said. “They thought he was young and soft. Another soldier died in his sleep, and Pelegrin picked an old man, the village head, marched him to the center of the village square, and ran him through. The man’s daughter, a young woman about my maid’s age, drew a knife, and stabbed the battle chaplain in the back. He was the only unarmored member of Pelegrin’s command, and he died on the spot. Pelegrin dragged her to the body of her father and cut her throat. The killings stopped.
“The villagers thought that not being soldiers would protect them,” Berengur said. “Once he executed an old man and a young woman, he communicated his willingness to retaliate, and they realized they were not immune. His actions prevented further deaths, both soldier and civilian. He has nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing he has done would damage his standing as a knight. Those are the realities of war.
“And that is precisely the problem. In his eyes, he is a monster, and yet he was hailed as a hero when the conflict ended. To Pelegrin, either nobody understood that he was a monster and when they found out, the whole world would turn on him, or everyone knew what he had done and they cheered him for his evil deeds, which was even worse. How could he ever measure up to his father’s legacy, the man who in his place would have brought the villagers to his side by his authority and the sheer force of his will alone?”
Berengur choked on air. “Our father did things far, far worse . . .”
“You didn’t tell Pelegrin any of that.”
“Of course not. Pelegrin was only seven years old when Father died. He was a child!”
I drank my tea. “You were trying to protect him then and I’m trying to protect him now.”
“Why?” Berengur asked.
“Because I understand his burden, and his story moves me. My father has also seen war, and his soul took years to heal. My heart goes out to your brother, and I feel the weight of everything he has endured.”
He stared at me.
“I can tell you the name of the monastery.”
I’d given him enough to find it anyway.
“In return, I want two things.”
“Name them.”
“First, swear to me that you will go alone, without your mother, that you will not speak to your brother or let him see you, but meet with the abbot privately instead, and that you will do your best to heed his counsel.”
“I swear,” Berengur declared.
“Second, I need to know who referred you to me.”
“His name is Shod. He works in the Three Moons and sells information on the side.”
No hesitation. Dropped his contact’s name just like that. This visit was connected to the Shears after all. Good. One worry off my shoulders.
“You will find Pelegrin in the monastery of the Pious Planters, north of Praul Britin.”
If he hurried, he could make the ride in two days.
“You have done me a great favor.” Berengur jumped up. “I will not forget this, my lady. The crest is yours to keep. Should you need me for anything, show this crest to the guards at the Citadel and they will take you to me.”
He turned to leave. His bodyguard bowed to me. It was a deep slow bow. He straightened and followed his liege to the tunnel.
I took the crest off the table and studied it. I hadn’t factored it in, but a favor from one of the Defender officers could come in handy.
“You said some things that are thought but not spoken,” Reynald told me. His voice was quiet and solemn.
“Perhaps if they were spoken, fewer soldiers would hang from beams.”
Reynald pulled his lancer’s coif down. “Do you think he will follow your advice?”
“I don’t know. I’ve done my best to convince him. It’s up to him now.”
“Whatever he chooses, the earl owes us a favor,” Reynald said, his voice calm and measured. “Berengur isn’t the wealthiest of nobles or the most renowned of knights, but that tower on his crest is well earned. He remembers his debts and he doesn’t flinch.”
To have a tower on your crest meant your family was stalwart. Reliable and loyal. The kind of family that honored its commitments and knew the meaning of duty.