Post by devilinthedetails on Oct 2, 2018 23:32:55 GMT 10
Title: Whispers of Treason
Rating: PG-13 for references to alcoholism and execution
Prompt: Betrayal
Summary: Alex finds it surprisingly simple to speak of treason.
Whispers of Treason
“You’re better than any steward could be at managing my estate accounts.” Duke Roger gave a cursory glance over the records where Alex had painstakingly calculated an increased yield of eight percent, which, he had hinted to his knightmaster before, might have swelled to ten percent if the duke would stop regarding fashionable fripperies as solid investments and instead wear timeless attire that didn’t fall out of favor with the changing seasons. Duke Roger didn’t take much interest in his lands—he didn’t know the value of a mill, how much wool a pasture of sheep could produce nor how much that wool could fetch on the market, or how high the price of livestock was–except as sources of money for his expensive clothing, but he did trust Alex to manage his estate accounts.
Everyone, Alex thought, had always relied on him to manage estate accounts. He was barely able to calculate basic sums without counting on his fingers when he realized that his drunkard father could be more depended upon to waste Tirragen’s always stretched to the breaking point funds on wine than he was to make any effort to balance Tirragen’s account books. Mother, who had no mind for mathematics, couldn’t be trusted with such calculations either, so it fell to Alex to manage the accounts and to squeeze from the dry, tight fist of Tirragen’s hills the coin needed to pay King Roald’s high taxes, the bitter debt the hill men owed for their whispers of treason during the Old King’s rotten reign. It fell to Alex to figure out where irrigation ditches to increase the yields of fields could be dug and to calculate where mills could be built. His people had at first grumbled that he was an arrogant little lord too big for his breeches, but they had soon learned to trust Alex’s calculations more than they ever had his father’s. They would, Alex believed in his bones, follow him willingly into battle because they had faith in him to lead them if not into prosperity then at least out of crushing poverty.
As if he could sense the ideas whirring within Alex, Roger, cutting the fine line between cruelty and compassion as he always did, smiled. “I suspect it comes from raising the funds to pay the high taxes that have been imposed on Tirragen and other fiefs in the hill lands.”
“The taxes must be high.” Alex forced himself to speak blandly as he betrayed his people because he wasn’t going to whisper treason before the king’s nephew. His lofty ambitions didn’t involve his head being mounted on a spike atop the palace walls. “It shows the realm that there is a steep price to be paid in treason.”
“Must it be paid generation after generation?” Roger cupped Alex’s chin and stroked at it almost musingly. “I confess that I think my uncle’s policy toward the hill lands is wrong. If I were king...”
Roger paused, teetering on the edge of treason, and Alex, impulsively, pushed them both over the brink before he could bite his tongue into silence. “If you were king what would you do, Your Grace?”
“I’d have you manage my accounts. I’d have you be my champion.” Roger’s thumb was insistent as it circled Alex’s chin, drawing a shiver from Alex at the promise of the power that could be his if he supported Roger’s ambition. “I’d remove the unfair tax burden from Tirragen and other hill fiefs. I’d be a hero to your people as would you if you continued to serve me faithfully.”
“I’ll always serve you faithfully, Your Grace.” Alex bowed his head, not knowing whether he had betrayed his country with those simple words, and uncertain whether, if he had, that made him a hero in the legacy of the fiercely independent hill men or another vile traitor who brought debt and disgrace to the hill lands.
Rating: PG-13 for references to alcoholism and execution
Prompt: Betrayal
Summary: Alex finds it surprisingly simple to speak of treason.
Whispers of Treason
“You’re better than any steward could be at managing my estate accounts.” Duke Roger gave a cursory glance over the records where Alex had painstakingly calculated an increased yield of eight percent, which, he had hinted to his knightmaster before, might have swelled to ten percent if the duke would stop regarding fashionable fripperies as solid investments and instead wear timeless attire that didn’t fall out of favor with the changing seasons. Duke Roger didn’t take much interest in his lands—he didn’t know the value of a mill, how much wool a pasture of sheep could produce nor how much that wool could fetch on the market, or how high the price of livestock was–except as sources of money for his expensive clothing, but he did trust Alex to manage his estate accounts.
Everyone, Alex thought, had always relied on him to manage estate accounts. He was barely able to calculate basic sums without counting on his fingers when he realized that his drunkard father could be more depended upon to waste Tirragen’s always stretched to the breaking point funds on wine than he was to make any effort to balance Tirragen’s account books. Mother, who had no mind for mathematics, couldn’t be trusted with such calculations either, so it fell to Alex to manage the accounts and to squeeze from the dry, tight fist of Tirragen’s hills the coin needed to pay King Roald’s high taxes, the bitter debt the hill men owed for their whispers of treason during the Old King’s rotten reign. It fell to Alex to figure out where irrigation ditches to increase the yields of fields could be dug and to calculate where mills could be built. His people had at first grumbled that he was an arrogant little lord too big for his breeches, but they had soon learned to trust Alex’s calculations more than they ever had his father’s. They would, Alex believed in his bones, follow him willingly into battle because they had faith in him to lead them if not into prosperity then at least out of crushing poverty.
As if he could sense the ideas whirring within Alex, Roger, cutting the fine line between cruelty and compassion as he always did, smiled. “I suspect it comes from raising the funds to pay the high taxes that have been imposed on Tirragen and other fiefs in the hill lands.”
“The taxes must be high.” Alex forced himself to speak blandly as he betrayed his people because he wasn’t going to whisper treason before the king’s nephew. His lofty ambitions didn’t involve his head being mounted on a spike atop the palace walls. “It shows the realm that there is a steep price to be paid in treason.”
“Must it be paid generation after generation?” Roger cupped Alex’s chin and stroked at it almost musingly. “I confess that I think my uncle’s policy toward the hill lands is wrong. If I were king...”
Roger paused, teetering on the edge of treason, and Alex, impulsively, pushed them both over the brink before he could bite his tongue into silence. “If you were king what would you do, Your Grace?”
“I’d have you manage my accounts. I’d have you be my champion.” Roger’s thumb was insistent as it circled Alex’s chin, drawing a shiver from Alex at the promise of the power that could be his if he supported Roger’s ambition. “I’d remove the unfair tax burden from Tirragen and other hill fiefs. I’d be a hero to your people as would you if you continued to serve me faithfully.”
“I’ll always serve you faithfully, Your Grace.” Alex bowed his head, not knowing whether he had betrayed his country with those simple words, and uncertain whether, if he had, that made him a hero in the legacy of the fiercely independent hill men or another vile traitor who brought debt and disgrace to the hill lands.
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!