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Baron Assassin: Chapter 16 (plus interlude)
🕑 Added 2025-09-30 01:25:12 +0000 UTCWhile Varal was often direct, it wasn’t common for him to be quite so blunt. Most nobles would take immediate offense, and the commoners in his service would often infer that he was angry with them. Neither was a productive outcome. Yet, everything he’d seen from the knight and his wife suggested that bluntness was the way to go in this specific situation. Sir Vareks was clearly not a subtle man. Lady Vareks did seem more subtle, but also apt to overlook subtleties that didn’t suit her. By posing the question so bluntly, the knight would understand his meaning. His wife, on the other hand, wouldn’t be able to misconstrue the question.
Not that it meant that either would prove eager to discuss the situation. Quite the opposite. Both averted their gazes from Varal. Lady Jareks did a reasonably good job of covering her discomfort, but Sir Jareks looked both pained and uncomfortable. At the same time, refusing to answer him after his good faith offer to help their son could lead to an outcome they didn’t want. Varal rescinding that very offer. He wouldn’t because it would come with far too many headaches and uncomfortable conversations with Marida. However, there was no way for the pair across the table from him to know any of that.
“What makes you think we’re in some kind of trouble?” asked Sir Jareks.
It was such a transparent attempt to buy time that even Lady Jareks shook her head a little. Varal smiled a little and decided how best to answer.
“I know you’re far from my lands. However, I suspect that word spread even this far about the dreadful condition of the Harven Barony when I took possession. Crime was rampant. The economy was stagnant. Anyone who could flee either had or was desperately trying to find a way out. It hasn’t been so long that I’ve forgotten what it was like. I see the same looks on the faces of the townspeople here that I saw on the faces of the people in my domain then,” said Varal, lifting a wine glass and taking a sip. “Then, there was the gang of criminals that tried to stop me from even coming here today.”
“What?” shouted Sir Jareks and Lady Jareks in unison.
Varal waved a hand as if to brush away a minor matter.
“Do not be concerned. They won’t trouble me or you again.”
“What do you mean, baron?” asked the knight.
“I dispatched them. I will also be taking steps to deal with any of their associates here or elsewhere.”
“Why?” asked a flustered Lady Jareks.
Varal felt an odd combination of the assassin and the father in him rise up when he answered with an icy voice.
“They spoke carelessly.”
Sir Jareks squinted as though Varal’s meaning was lost on him. Lady Vareks paled at those words, seeming to intuit something of his deeper meaning. Varal briefly wondered how they would react if they understood that he’d done the killing himself. The pair might take it in stride. After all, a knight’s duty was, ultimately, to kill in the service of his liege and the crown. If Sir Jareks was older than he looked, a distinct possibility if he had strong magic, the man might well have been required to perform that duty in the last war. Somehow, Varal doubted that was the case. The more likely outcome of such a revelation would be leaving both the knight and his wife frightened. Probably best to leave that information hidden, thought Varal.
“Of course,” continued the baron, “we have drifted somewhat off the topic at hand.”
He leveled a stern look at the pair. After a nod from his wife, Jareks reluctantly spoke.
“I have a debt.”
“An unreasonably large debt, I assume,” said Varal.
“It didn’t begin that way,” muttered the knight, “but yes. It is an unreasonably large debt.”
“I also assume that this debt is to another noble and not a bank.”
“How did you know?”
“You can negotiate with banks, especially as a noble. They don’t generally press so hard that you’re forced to sell off your belongings,” said Varal with a gesture that encompassed their entire manor. “Something that you have clearly done in the recent past. That’s the sort of thing that families remember and hold grudges about. Banks also don’t make a habit of imposing interest rates so high that your small debts become vast debts. Moderately large debts, perhaps, but not vast debts. Again, it’s the kind of thing that vengeful people remember, and a noble’s luck can turn on the most unexpected things. In short, they’re motivated to avoid being too greedy. Another noble—one with a grudge, perhaps—is an entirely different matter.”
Sir Jarek’s mouth twisted as though he’d bitten into a wedge of lemon.
“It seems to me, baron, that you already know about our situation.”
“Not at all. I made educated guesses based on the evidence. It’s a far cry from direct knowledge. For example, I don’t have any idea to whom you have a debt. I also possess no notion about what would have prompted them to put you in this situation,” said Varal before he added something. “I’m not asking you to divulge either piece of information. It is, frankly, neither my business nor of particular interest to me.”
The knight and his wife seemed relieved by his disinterest in the particulars. What they couldn’t know was that Daran would surely discover that information in due time. The former spy was always thorough in that regard.
“Then, what is it that you do want to know?” asked Lady Jereks.
“I want your assessment of this noble’s character. They clearly aren’t above putting you in a bad position, but I can only assume that there is some history there. What I wish to know is whether or not my intervention on your son’s behalf draw their attention and ire down on me?”
“Possibly,” said Sir Jereks after a pronounced pause. “It isn’t a certainty, but it wouldn’t shock me.”
“Goren!” shouted Lady Jareks.
“Should I have lied to him?”
Varal would have expected some heat in the man’s voice, but all he heard was a bone-deep weariness. The kind of weariness that only appeared when a person had been crushed beneath problems they could neither solve nor escape for almost longer than they could bear. The knight, it seemed, was on the edge of utter despair. Something that it seemed Lady Jereks understood. She gazed at her husband with nothing but concern on her face.
“No,” she said in a quiet voice. “No, you shouldn’t have lied to him.”
“Baron,” said Sir Jareks, “I’ll understand if you wish to withdraw your offer.”
“I see you have misunderstood my intent. I’m not the sort of person to make an offer just to withdraw it at the first sign of trouble. I simply wished to know if I should prepare for trouble. Now, I know that I should.”
With that, Varal stood. He doubted that either the knight or his wife was particularly eager for more of his company. However, he found his eyes lingering on the door to the room where the piano was kept.
“If I might ask,” he said. “How much is your debt?”
“Three hundred and fifty gold,” said Lady Jareks.
It was a staggering sum of money for a poor knight. It was enough to do a great many things in the town to restore the economy. Even Varal wouldn’t spend that kind of money casually. At least, he wouldn’t do it on most days. He walked over and opened the door to the other room. Light from the dining area spilled in. For something so large, the piano seemed tiny, like it was cowering from the strange shadows the uneven light cast.
“Baron?” asked Sir Jareks, a bit of life seeping back into his voice.
“I wish to buy this piano,” he said and continued before the others could speak. “I don’t wish to take it with me. It will be enough to ensure that it cannot be taken from you. I would like for it to remain precisely where it is.”
“You wish for it to remain where it is?” asked Lady Jereks. “For how long?”
“For the length of your daughter’s life. I understand that pianos are expensive and difficult to make. I will offer you a price commensurate with that expense and difficulty. I believe a sum of five hundred gold should be sufficient.”
An aborted yell and the oddly musical sound of glass breaking cut through the air. Varal whirled toward the unexpected noise. Lady Jareks was standing there with a hand over her mouth. It seemed she had dropped her wine glass. Sir Jareks was standing next to her, his face so white that Varal wondered if someone had drained the man entirely of blood.
“Baron,” breathed the knight in a harsh whisper. “Such as sum is—”
“Paltry enough for having seen a miracle,” said Varal. “You are, of course, free to do as you see fit with it. However, I suggest that you employ a solicitor. One with reputation beyond reproach. If you don’t know of one, I will send for one. Have them deliver a check, drawn on the royal bank, to the noble who holds your debt. Instruct them not to return without proof that the debt is paid in full.”
“That will surely enrage him,” said Lady Jareks with ruthless joy in her eyes.
“All the more for being unable to claim that the payment was not delivered to him,” observed Varal. “But, as I said, the money is yours to do with as you see fit.”
“If you would be so kind, Baron. I think it would be best if you were to send for that solicitor.”
“Very well. I believe our business is concluded, so I will intrude on your home no longer.”
“Baron, you are always welcome in this home,” said Sir Jareks with the kind of conviction normally reserved for vows made to the goddess.
“I appreciate that. Perhaps, if your daughter might be kind enough to play again, I will find the time to visit.”
The knight and his wife escorted Varal to the door. He gave them a shallow bow before stepping out.
Interlude
The moment the door was firmly closed. Goren Jareks turned, leaned against it, and let out an explosive, relieved breath. Then, his legs gave out. The man slid to the floor. He tried to rise but found he lacked the strength. Submitting to the moment of weakness, he leaned his head back against the door.
“Goren!” shouted Lia.
“I’m fine,” rasped the knight. “I’m fine.”
“You’re clearly not fine. What is wrong?” she demanded.
She crouched next to him and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead to check for a fever.
“I’ve never been so grateful to another man in my entire life.”
“Why is that a bad thing?”
“It’s not. You know I’m a not a coward, don’t you?”
“Of course, I know that, my love.”
“Then, perhaps you’ll understand when I say, I’ve never been so physically afraid of another man in my life.”
Lia stared at him for a long moment before she nodded.
“He was perfectly polite, but it’s little but a clever mask. I suspect that man is capable of terrible things.”
Goren shook his head.
“No. He isn’t capable of terrible things. He has done terrible things. You learn to feel it when you train the way I do. You get a sense about people or things you cannot hope to stand against. I cannot stand against that man. He would cut me down without effort or a second thought. Why would a man like that decide to help us, though?”
“For all the pretense of his politeness,” said Lia thoughtfully, “I don’t believe he was trying to deceive us. I think he told us the literal truth. He did it because his daughter asked him to.”
“Helping Remen, perhaps, but the money?”
Lia Jareks’s worried expression softened as she looked toward where their daughter was sleeping.
“I think that’s easy enough to explain. It’s also why I’m not afraid to let him take such an active hand in Remen’s life. Somewhere inside that frightening man, there is a soul. And something in Aima’s music touched that soul.”
“I wonder if that shouldn’t concern us. She’ll be of age soon enough.”
Lia shook her head.
“No. There was nothing like that. It was the music. It touched him deeply enough that he was willing to spend an outrageous amount of money to ensure that she could keep playing and eating without concern. I think that was his only true intention where she was concerned. Although, he might well have used it an as excuse to do what he intended to do all along. Help us.”
“It still doesn’t explain why he decided to help us,” complained Goren.
“It might simply be practicality at work. Helping Remen is likely to draw the count’s ire. If the baron is going to draw negative attention anyway, he might as well go all in.”
“I wonder if we’ve returned kindness with evil, drawing the baron into our problems this way. The count is powerful and dangerous.”
Lady Jareks considered her husband’s words for a moment before she snorted in amusement.
“What’s so funny?”
“If the baron is as dangerous as you say he is, do you imagine he employs people who are less dangerous and competent. If the count chooses to take issue with the baron… Well, I suspect he’ll find he’s grabbed tail of a particularly impatient and wrathful dragon.”
Comments
Benedict Stone
Can’t wait for more
shackcat
Thank you
