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Chapter Four:
New Player
Narvis bustled down the corridor with a tray held perfectly flat in front of him. He scrunched up his face and wriggled in his clothes as he walked, wishing he could stop and scratch at all the itches the dark green servant’s outfit created, but Lord Arnor was very irritable when it came to messages being delivered quickly.
Today marked a week and three days since Narvis had been sealed in the palace, and further inclined to stay by the bard's, Penblade’s, veiled warnings whenever the two passed in the halls. After being led safely from the Queen’s chambers to a hallway in the tower of House Arnor, the bard and beggar had parted ways, Penblade to go entertain the court at lunch, and Narvis to pilfer some serving clothes in the colors of House Arnor. Once he’d been properly attired and trimmed his facial hair a bit with a dagger he found, he’d found the door to Lord Arnor’s study, the largest room in the tower, and waited outside for the Lord to return from lunch at court.
Not a minute later the elderly nobleman, tailed by a half dozen much younger nobles, had hobbled up the winding staircase at the end of the hall and entered his study, gruffly telling Narvis to follow him without even looking him in the face. Narvis had obeyed, nodding and staying silent as he’s spotted other servants doing, and had soon been on his first assignment; delivering a letter to a nobleman in another tower, the Lord of House Mazrim.
From that point on, Narvis had done almost everything for the constantly yelling, angry old man, from fetching the man’s children and relaying messages, to stealing him snacks from the royal pantry, food meant only for the Queen and her daughter. That had been the first time Narvis had gotten more than a grunt from the Lord. Lord Arnor had told him to bring him food, nothing specific, but Narvis had seen the man’s temper, so he’d snuck into the kitchens and stolen a small mountain of everything, hiding it expertly up sleeves and pants legs, even in the fold of his coat collar. The old man had laughed approvingly, marveling at the pile of delicacies on his study’s desk.
From there, Narvis had been given more and more important duties, culminating in the message he was now bringing Lord Arnor. He hurried along hallways and up stairs, hurrying both because he needed to be valuable to Lord Arnor, and because the message he had sent a thrill through him every time he thought of it. He knew this was temporary, that with luck he’d be out of this insane place by the end of the month with his skin still on his body, but the things he’d learned as a servant, the secrets and conspiracies he’d gleaned, they were like a drug to him. Just by standing quietly in corners or by doorways, waiting for his Lord’s orders, he could now confirm or deny almost every rumor he’d ever heard on the streets. The countess Delief was in an affair with Lord Sedrey. Gold was being hidden by both House Durwin and House Laurel in order to lower the royal taxes they had to pay. Even little secrets like how the head cook collected rats’ tails excited him. Speaking even a word of any of it could easily make him the target of assassins, but that only added to the heady thrill, and it terrified Narvis.
I need to get out of here, He thought feverishly, approaching Lord Arnor’s study. Before I’m in so deep I can’t get out. Before one of the nobles decides I know too much. Before Penblade or Alabaster or Mouse tries to kill me! Before… He pushed open the door to the study, “My Lord?”
“Enough!” Lord Arnor rose from his seat behind his desk at the opposite end of the study and shouted at a man and woman, both nobles, standing before his desk. One was Gunther, Lord Arnor’s eldest son, and the other was Maliah, his eldest daughter. “Out you vultures, OUT!” He roared, the sheer volume of his voice making the pair step back, “I refuse to speak to either of you on this matter again, until I say so, do you understand!?” He broke down in a fit of coughing, leaning heavily on the desk, but the two nobles, brother and sister, bowed and retreated nonetheless, both perfectly composed. Narvis stepped back from the door after opening it wide for them; he was not fooled by their poise and carefully blank faces. Beneath their façade was a seething mass of rage and impatience. Lord Arnor was old, very old, and did not have long to live. More and more Narvis had walked in on the Lord’s children trying to make him give them the title of Lord or Lady of the House once he passed.
The Lord sighed and sank back into his chair. He grunted, “Enter.” Narvis entered the study at a calm walk, closing the door behind him. He crossed the room to stand in front of the desk and took a deep breath, “My Lord, I delivered your message to Lord Jaquelle, and he sends you one in return.” Arnor leaned forward despite his obvious weariness, “Red cranes have been circling the wheat fields.” Arnor squinted and nodded thoughtfully. A red crane soaring on a silver background was the seal of House Xander, and they’d been trying to steal dominance of the wheat trade from House Arnor for months now, always working in the shadows though. Now they were openly moving against House Arnor’s monopoly. Narvis blinked and shook his head slightly. Too deep, too deep.
Lord Arnor suddenly laughed and Narvis jumped. “Ha! Well, at least I’ll see this loose end tied before I’m in the ground.”
Narvis shook his head, playing the concerned servant card, “No my lord, you will be well again soon. You will-“
Arnor spoke over him, “You’re my servant, not a fool boy, so don’t act the fool. I am going to be dead within the month, and everyone knows it. Why do you think they were here?” He gestured contemptuously at the door, after his children. He was quiet for a few minutes, slumped in his chair and thinking, slowly drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. He stared through Narvis' stomach at the opposite side of the study, his eyes glossing over slightly. Narvis stood in front of the desk, awaiting instructions impatiently.
At length, Arnor spoke, "Do you know how the prince regent died boy?"
Narvis blinked, caught off guard, "Um, no, my lord. What does that have to do with-"
"It isn't your place to ask questions!" Arnor barked, making Narvis jump, then he continued in a softer voice, "Now then, you know at least that prince regent Dusk, the late king's brother, assassinated the king, don't you?"
"Yes, my lord," Narvis said stiffly. He hated being bellowed at.
"Good, do you know how?"
"My lord?"
"How, boy! How Dusk did it! Oh very well then… It was quite simple really. Dusk snuck into the kitchen one night and poisoned some of the ingredients for the king's supper, a few potatoes I believe. So when the king had dinner that night, URK!" Lord Arnor clutched his chest and yelped, making Narvis jump again. Arnor chuckled and continued, "King died and Dusk thought he'd won himself the crown, being oh so clever as he was, but it was only as he lay on the ground, frothing at the mouth with his eyes filling with blood turned black on the same night as the assassination, that he remembered he'd been having his servants steal food from the royal pantry to fix his meals. He was killed by his own schemes, stuck in his own web, and the web dragged him to the grave." Arnor finished and stared at Narvis.
The beggar's skin crawled as he put all his effort into not cringing and shuddering. He was fully reminded now of why he needed to get out of this place as soon as possible. Like cold water in the face of a drunkard, Lord Arnor's story had doused the giddy thrill of keeping secrets, sobering him thoroughly. "Why-" He gulped involuntarily, "Why are you telling me this... my lord?"
“Because my boy,” The old man barked, “you want to play the same game!”
Narvis’s jaw fell open, “I... I... What!? What would ever make you think that!?”
“Your eyes,” Lord Arnor replied, “I can see the lust of the game in your eyes, the way they’re always so attentive or excited around other noble’s conversations; the way you know to keep them on the ground but your ears alert when those nobles are around. Why do you think I send you on assignments to all my House’s greatest enemies? You have the head to get things out of what you hear that none of my other servants do.” The Lord shook his head sadly, “I may use your skills to play the game but I warn you, never try to play it yourself. It would destroy you in minutes if you were fool enough to get yourself sucked in.”
A week and a half and counting old man, Narvis thought rather smugly, to his dismay. “You’re right my Lord,” He said, more to himself than anyone, “I’m safe were I am.”
“There’s a good lad,” The old man rasped, slumping in his chair, “Now, go wait outside the door. If anyone comes looking for me tell them to go jump in the river.”
Narvis bowed quickly, walking backwards before he was even upright again, “Yes my Lord. Right away my Lord.” He spun around and crossed the room quickly, eager to be away from here. He opened the door to the study and nearly did two things. He nearly screamed at the sight of Alabaster walking down the hall, and he nearly slammed the door shut when he saw the recognition on the guard’s face when he spotted Narvis.
Numbly Narvis turned back around to face Lord Arnor. His only hope, a frail old man. I am going to die today, Narvis thought for certain, “Master Alabaster is right outside my Lord,” He said without a hint of emotion, “May I please jump out that window behind you?”
If Lord Arnor was surprised by the request, he was shocked when Alabaster and three other guards practically kicked his door in. He wasn’t shocked for long though. “Alabaster you will explain yourself this instant and then you will get out of my tower!” The old man roared, rising to his feet with his knuckles on the desktop.
Alabaster smiled at Narvis as the guards surrounded him, but he spoke to the Lord, “Don’t worry my Lord, we’ll be gone before you know it without troubling you a bit.”
“Like Hell you will! That’s my manservant you’re arresting there!”
“I have every right to arrest this beggar my Lor-“
Lord Arnor cut Alabaster off sharply, “Beggar!? Are you blind? Look at him! Does he look even remotely like a beggar to you!? Well? Answer me boy!” He didn’t wait for an answer, “Besides, what proof do you have that my servant has done anything illegal?”
Alabaster frowned, looking at Lord Arnor this time, “You of all people should know that begging is outlawed.” Narvis was sweating to fill buckets. Two powerful men wrestling for control, with him between them.
“Aye, that I do know,” Lord Arnor replied, “So naturally, if you can prove to me, as I already said, that this man is a beggar, then, you can have him. To hang or to boil I couldn’t care less, but I will not let one of my most prized servants leave my employ without reason,” His voice took on a hard edge, “Nor tolerate his unjust murder.” Alabaster’s mouth worked furiously, but he couldn’t come up with any proof that couldn’t be easily refuted. This beggar was clever, to put himself in such company. “As I thought,” The old man said with satisfaction, slumping back into his chair, “You have no reason to be here Alabaster. Get out before I send for Guardmaster Vladek.”
Alabaster bowed slowly and stiffly, the other guards copying him without spoken question. Narvis could see the rage in the guard’s eyes and almost hear his teeth grind as he and his minions exited the room, closing the door behind them.
Narvis waited almost a whole minute before turning sharply to Lord Arnor. To give his thanks or beg for his life he hadn’t quite decided. Before he could talk though, Lord Arnor held up a hand to stop him, “I don’t want to know, I don’t need to know, and it’s in both our interests that I never find out, am I clear?” Narvis blinked, then shut his mouth, gulped, and nodded. “We are not friends boy, despite what you just saw. That was not to protect you, I did that to protect a tool. That is all you are to me. Now I believe I sent you to keep watch before your petty personal problems got in the way. Out!”
Narvis jumped and quickly went through the door to wait outside the study, the lump of cold fear in his stomach refusing to melt.
(OOC: Sorry this chapter's so late, to you especially my queen. I should have gotten it done sooner.)