The Broken (The Lost Words: Volume 2) by Igor Ljubuncic Read Free Book Online

Chamber, the eyes of the men assembled watching him carefully with trepidation. He stopped suddenly, as if seeing the masters of coin and trade, attending the meeting that Bart had just interrupted, for the first time. The two lords were seated behind the big table, staring at a swath of papers, not quite sure what to make of Bart’s interruption or his message. Monarch Leopold waved them out.
    “If she wants war, she’ll get war!” he shouted.
    “Your Majesty, I believe she wants to avoid war,” Bart offered quietly. His eyes rolled toward the chandelier above, then toward the empty balconies surrounding the chamber.
    “Avoid war? How?” The monarch slammed his fist against the mahogany surface. “How? By abducting every single Eracian noble who came to pay respects at her father’s funeral? They were her guests! And she broke the code! I could have been there!” It was part pride, part luck, part mistrust that had stayed the monarch from traveling to Roalas. He had shipped half his court instead, a lukewarm gesture of goodwill that only barely countered the insult of his absence.
    The count swallowed. “She has also taken hostage all of the Caytorean dignitaries.”
    “I don’t care! I don’t care! Half the realm’s leaders are there. Who does she think she is, that bitch!”
    Bart raked his hair. There was sweat dewing on his temples. He never liked talking to the ruler when he was angry. Leopold was not a very reasonable man when white fury wrapped him.
    “Your Majesty,” Margrave Philip, the chief spy, interjected. The man had remained sitting behind the table, holding a silver pen, rolling it between his fingers. “It would be prudent to learn more about Empress Amalia’s intentions before we make any decisions. We know for a fact that she has not harmed anyone. All her guests are being treated with care and respect.”
    “Oh, I see. So we should be polite as well? Maybe we should wage a polite war?” He whammed the table again. “Summon Commander Raymond, now!”
    Konrad, the royal aide, nodded curtly and rushed out of the chamber, glad to leave the scene.
    War talk again, Bartholomew thought and swallowed. He did not want to remind the monarch that trade with Caytor had tripled in the last eighteen years, mostly because of Adam. The man had crippled Eracia, but he had given her a clean wound to nurse.
    Snubbed pride was a deep hurt, but Bart was a pragmatic man. He saw beyond the fanfare and heroic songs. He counted wars in the lost gold and unnecessary wagonloads of bodies. The last two decades had been the least bloody in known Eracian history. The Free Roads Agreement was the best thing to have happened between Somar and Eybalen in quite a long time.
    They had to be very careful around Amalia. She may be a diplomatic pirate, but then again, nothing Adam’s blood had ever done was orthodox.
    “Your Majesty,” he said, “we really need to understand what she intends to do. Our trade convoys have not been touched.”
    Long caravans of goods continued flowing into Athesia and Caytor, unabated, safe in their passage, and untouched by the diplomatic storm in Roalas. It was the legacy of the strange duality of Athesian rule. Even when the monarch had dispatched killers to dispose of Adam, the man would just blithely ignore the attempts, never once harming the economic relations between the countries. He simply looked beyond the petty bickering and political schemes and let all their countries thrive. Or perhaps he knew things that none of them did. His daughter seemed to follow the same path.
    “It’s called the Butcher’s Slice,” the monarch said in a chiding tone. “You know that one?” Both men shook their heads. “Bless my nanny for telling me the best stories.” The monarch paced around the room in a nervous, erratic gait. Bart had to pivot on his heels to follow him.
    “It’s a story about a butcher in a little town called Elsborne, who used to deliver pork cuts to his customers.