CH524 · Rewrite
☕ Support

Chapter 524: A Night of Bloodshed

The hall erupted.

Tables overturned. Bowls and dishes went down in a cascade of crashing and splintering, spilled soup threading through the crevices between stone slabs until it was everywhere underfoot.

It was the first time either of Calvin’s sons had witnessed killing at close range. The older, Cole, held out his sword and planted himself in front of his father in a posture too rigid to be anything but fear wearing discipline’s mask. The younger, Lance — seventeen years old — had gotten behind his chair.

Calvin sighed, privately, in the way a man sighs over a problem he has long since stopped expecting to resolve. If Edith had not existed to measure them against, perhaps they would not appear quite so diminished. But she did exist, and they did appear so, and they had likely resigned themselves to that arithmetic years ago.

He looked toward the center of the hall, where his eldest daughter had already fixed her eyes on Ed Howes — the only genuine threat in the room.

She opened with a bottle of ale flung at his face, forcing him to turn away, and in the same motion leaped onto the long table and came at him from above with her sword. Her footwork was a cat’s: quick, recalculating, never planted long enough to be read. Ed met her cleanly — he was skilled, and strong in the way that men who train for war are strong, and he turned her first half-dozen strikes without visible effort, steel ringing against steel in a rapid, overlapping sequence.

They moved around the tables while around them men were dying. Ed’s knights fell one by one as the Duke’s outnumbered retinue was ground down, but Howes himself showed no sign of retreat. If anything, being isolated made him more aggressive.

Calvin started to worry.

The bloodstains on Edith’s armor were evidence: she had already fought once tonight, out in the yard with the guards, before coming through that door. She was not fresh. And she was a woman fighting a man who had kept pace with her through a dozen exchanges — and there was always the matter of raw strength. A contest of attrition favored Ed Howes, and he seemed to know it.

There was no fear in her face.

Her eyes stayed on him with complete steadiness — bright, watchful, reading him the way a reader reads a text, looking for the meaning beneath the words. Sweat flew from the ends of her hair with each strike. Her energy was visibly declining. She kept attacking anyway, relentlessly, refusing to let him set his feet.

Ed had noticed. With a shout he shifted his style, switching to a technique that would cost both of them — a trade designed to end the fight quickly by accepting mutual damage. Edith declined the exchange. She began deflecting rather than pressing, and the disparity in strength started to tell. Her sword sang against his and the shock ran up her arms; she lost her footing and went off the edge of the table.

Calvin’s heart lurched. The nearest guard was ten feet away. There was no time.

Rather than scrambling to rise, Edith used the broken half of her sword to slice through one of the table’s legs.

The whole calculation shifted in the space of a breath.

Ed was already moving, seeing her on the ground, seeing opportunity. He jumped onto the table with both arms raised — the killing posture, the full-commit downswing — and did not notice what she had just done to the leg beneath him.

The table gave way at the worst possible moment. Under normal circumstances, any trained fighter could have leaped clear. But Ed’s weight was fully committed to his arms, his body hunched forward into the blow, his feet locked for the impact. He went headfirst onto the stone floor with a sound like dropped timber.

There was no coming back from that.

Edith climbed onto his back and drew the dagger from her waist. She drove it into his neck and turned it once. The body shuddered beneath her.

Luck? Calvin turned the question over while the last resistance stuttered out around the hall. No. She set that trap from the moment she hit the ground. Ed had spent the entire fight building a conviction that he was winning. The growing desperation of her strikes, the visible drain on her energy, the final loss of balance — it had all fed his confidence until he was certain strength would decide it. By the time he leaped onto the table, he was no longer thinking clearly. He was finishing the fight. And she had made the table ready for him.

Under ordinary circumstances she would not have survived that blow. That was what made the trap work: it was not a trick. It was a real risk. And she had taken it anyway.

The fighting ended. The room settled into quiet broken only by the creak of the fireplace. The smell of blood mixed with spilled wine. The lower nobles sat with their heads down, very carefully not looking at anyone.

Calvin returned to his seat and surveyed the room.

“Earl Lista and Earl Howes conspired against King Wimbledon and have been dealt with accordingly.” He let that settle before continuing. “Now each of you has a choice: serve these corpses, or serve the new king.”

No one offered a second opinion.


Later, in the study, Calvin blotted a smear of blood from his daughter’s forehead with his handkerchief.

“So it’s settled?” he said. “Do you believe His Majesty Roland Wimbledon will accept what we’ve done?”

“Yesterday you were calling him the rebel king,” Edith remarked.

“That was yesterday.” He glared at her without heat. “Since we cannot beat him, we’d better surrender first. If we don’t win his trust, we’ll have the nobles’ hatred on top of everything else.”

In truth, what they had done tonight went well beyond any accepted protocol among the nobility. Executing two great lords without trial, without process, without even the pretense of one — it was the kind of thing that would have been unthinkable before two years of civil war had stripped away the conventions. Timothy’s bad example had done some of the work. The speed of Roland’s victory had done the rest. The rules that had held since before Calvin’s grandfather’s time felt suddenly negotiable.

“I don’t know if he’ll accept us.”

The handkerchief dropped. Calvin caught it. “You — what?”

“I don’t know,” Edith repeated, without special urgency. “All we can do is offer our sincerity. What happens next is Prince Roland’s decision. You understand that, Father.” She met his eyes. “There’s a real chance he sends his own people to govern the Northern Region and reduces your rank. But if we do nothing, the Kant family has no chance at all. At least this way, we have a position to negotiate from.”

Calvin sat back down slowly, the look on his face the look of a man digesting bad medicine.

He did not want to lose the Dukedom.

Edith watched him with something almost gentle in her expression. “Don’t despair yet. There is still much to do. Tomorrow we begin seizing the mansions and fiefs of the two Earls.” She paused. “And remember — sincerity is what gets us into the room. What happens inside the room depends on something else entirely.”

“Such as what?”

“Ability.” The smile she gave him was charming, and also slightly dangerous. “I’ll bring these two heads to King’s City myself, Father. Let me be your messenger to His Majesty.”

Discussion

Suggest a change