A Promise of Iron by Brandon McCoy (best free ebook reader TXT) 📗

man entered and closed the door behind him. He did not introduce himself as he sat down and unfolded a leather case littered with devices of ill-intent. I took in a deep breath, then let it out slowly.

I gave them no information that would link Monroe to the destruction of the granary. I confirmed, as I had done before, my involvement in alerting the town of the Golmere horde, which never came. I vehemently denied being connected to the Circle or conspiring with the Seveli to invade Belen. My least favorite accusation was that of leading Ros to his death in retaliation over an altercation several days ago at Turns.

They didn’t have all the pieces, but they had enough unexplained connections between me, the Seveli, the Circle, and an unexpected Sunemere army camped upon our border to cast suspicion. And they had the coin. Something I shouldn’t have left when I fled to the North. Their case was weak, but it didn’t have to be strong; suspicion was enough. My only hope was for Monroe to intercede on my behalf. I wasn’t entirely sure why Nerris was behind the charge in the first place, but if anyone could persuade him to find me innocent, it would be him.

When the last man left the interrogation room, I flexed my right hand gingerly, where two of my fingers had been dislocated during the questioning. I took the first finger, wrapped my good hand around it, and breathed out as I reset the joint. Pain flooded over me, and it took me several moments before I worked up the courage to reset the other. I felt around in my mouth, probing my teeth to make sure they were still intact, they were, but I spit out a sizeable amount of blood on the table regardless.

My jailor arrived shortly after. Silently, he took my lead in his hands and walked me out of the room and down the hall. I was in the House, somewhere in the lower levels judging by the musty smell in the air. The last time I had been interrogated, I was south in Cyllia, and the conditions there were not much different. The memory caused anxiety to swell. I closed my eyes and my chest tightened.

The courtroom was a small circular room with several rows of benches and a large wooden stage with two chairs, one for the judge and one for myself. In the judge’s chair, Lord Governor Nerris Tan sat. His robes were a formal black with red stitching along the seams, complete with a tall hat capped with a plume of red and white feathers.

I was led to my chair, where I sat obediently. The wooden benches across were empty, save for Vis, who waited with a stack of papers neatly organized into a leather folio. He wore that same smile he had before, a picture of insincere Cyllian cordiality.

Fatigue wrapped around me like a coiled snake growing tighter and tighter upon my chest. My hand throbbed, the pain caused my vision to waver.

Vis stood and opened his folio. “The Cyllian Empire herby charges Lordson Faerin Monroe on the following counts: Insurrection, smuggling, unlawful procurement, unlawful production, conspiracy, false witness, depravity, murder, and treason.”

I chuckled. I was sure they could have found a few more charges if they really tried.

Vis turned to Nerris and offered his summary of charges. He claimed that through my coordinated actions of the past several days, I had destabilized the region’s defenses and left them vulnerable to a joint Seveli, Circle, and Sunemere incursion, an incursion that began first with the ambush of the garrison from Gent and the destruction of the northern granary. He went on to say that the attack would have continued to Forhd had it not been thwarted by the timely arrival of the 5th Legion’s vanguard, their sudden appearance when they were hundreds of miles away still a mystery I had yet to solve.

I had to applaud Vis in his efforts; I almost believed him. According to witnesses, it was only a half-day ride to Alerhold, but we did not arrive until the following day. Getting lost in the woods to cover our tracks for fear our legally stolen coin would attract unwanted attention was hardly a viable excuse. It made much more sense that the time was spent meeting contacts within the Seveli and the Circle, contacts that were then given coin to bolster their war chest and fund their efforts in Belen, coin that I had coerced a good-natured Cyllian daughter into giving me.

The truth that I had spotted a sizeable Golmere horde moving towards Forhd was twisted into a clever scheme to leave the town further weakened while I met with my Sunemere contacts in the Heights where we would secure the granary and await our plans to invade Belen. Ros, a noble son of the Empire, discovered my treachery and lit the granary ablaze on his dying breath, lest its stores fall into enemy hands. He did not discuss Borton’s involvement in all this; perhaps his trial was next?

They found the forge, of course, when gathering evidence. It alone would have been enough to condemn me, but it seems Goren’s men delivered my order while I was away, no doubt to free his storeroom before the House went on lockdown. They found Dallon’s requisition as well, which made my explanation of the iron circle the lie that it was.

The motive proposed for all this skullduggery was a web of beautiful lies that came closer to a real motive than I had ever realized. I was a poor half-Ruk bastard, a war babe as they called me in that clever way that somehow absolved the raping of my mother. I was forced into their system at the age of six and sent south for work in the labor camps until I was eight. I was then purchased by a Cyllian nobleman, a generous benefactor who raised me as his own, but my barbarian