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

His eyes narrowed. “Not a thing you would want to miss, I imagine. As soon as the supply lines resume, I will have your items delivered.”

“Thank you for understanding,” I said as I stepped towards the exit.

“Faerin!” he called out, stopping me as I turned the wooden handle. He disappeared quickly and reemerged with a bundle of flowers wrapped in brown paper.

“Flowers for your flower,” he said, handing me the bouquet.

I took them and gave him a curious look. “These are just green bulbs?”

“They are…lilies…. They bloom over many days instead of withering from the day you gift…. You really didn’t understand, did you?

I shook my head. “Oh, well, that’s a nice thought, though.”

He nodded slowly. “Yes… yes, it’s quite thoughtful.” He turned back to his plant with shears in hand. “Good luck.”

I walked down the stairs with a measure of a bounce in my step. As I approached the commissary, I saw her waiting on one of the wooden benches. She looked up and gave me a warm smile. Her copper eyes sparkled in that way that told me she was up to something.

“Are those for me?” she asked.

I nodded and handed them to her.

“Lilies? How did you know I liked lilies?”

I winked. “So, you were able to keep your job then?”

“Oh no, they dismissed me; they even made me sign a document swearing that I wouldn’t divulge any of their procedures. They’re as tight-lipped as a whore in Venticle.” She wrinkled her nose. “Silly little pricks.”

“So, losing your job was a good thing then?”

“Normally, no, but I am feeling pretty good right now.” She patted the bench next to her. “Come sit with me; it’s actually a pretty funny story.”

I took a seat and raised an eyebrow.

“Father came in this morning and filed a formal intent to disavow,” she explained, her smile growing wider. “When he did, he closed all my accounts as they were opened in his name. He took every coin I ever earned, not that I had much.”

I watched her face closely. A disavowal left her without a house, not just physically, but in name as well. Typically, upon receiving such news, one might be seen as a bit morose—not my Lira. The fact that she was now destitute and without the means to provide didn’t seem to bother her in the slightest. I studied her features, the lines, and curves of her face; all I saw was joy.

She reached behind her back and produced a large purse.

“Sadly, he neglected to change his vault word, something he shouldn’t have overlooked.”

I turned my head towards her.

“It was my mother’s name, Cynthia,” she continued as she opened the purse to reveal a heavy pile of gold and black coins. “He really shouldn’t have been so careless. You see, a disavowal takes nearly a full cycle to process. The file must be transferred to an Imperial House in Cyllia. There it is vetted by a court auditor and only after they make direct correspondence with the petitioner can it be made truly official. All the back and forth takes so much time, and as it should…. There is no process of reversal, so they really want you to think about it.”

Her smile turned to one of pure glee.

“Interestingly enough, a declaration of death and emergency statement of assets is an immediate request, provided you have the account vault word, something Cyllian’s traditionally pass on in their will.”

She giggled as she added two more bags to her lap. “So I had him declared dead, and because I was still listed as his beneficiary, I froze his assets pending a formal reopening.”

She grabbed two more bags from behind her back.

I looked nervously at the fortune piled on her lap. “How much did you take?”

“All of it,” she said with wild eyes. “I took it all.”

Chapter Thirty and Seven

Summer 1272, Cyllian Imperial Count

Two hundred, forty and six iron stars, seventy and three gold crowns, a few dozen silver nobles, and not a bent copper between them, that was the combined contents of the five purses Lira withdrew from her father’s account once we counted them back at the shop. I was determined that we get the coin off the streets and as far away from the House as possible. Wisely, she listened.

It was a sizeable sum, a true fortune, and likely enough to buy the shop outright three times over, not something you could easily hide, easily secure, or easily spend. I was hesitant at first to offer my shop. Lord Valerius would come looking here first—when would be anyone’s guess. Lira explained that an auditor would be dispatched immediately to his residence to determine the official cause of death. Once he spoke with the auditor, proving he is quite alive, he would know that something was amiss.

His account would remain frozen until he traveled south to Cyllia to reinstate his identity, a long and lengthy process equally as cumbersome as applying for a disavowal. He wouldn’t know for sure that she had taken anything until upon his return, but I reminded her of the many ways information is shared and purchased north of the Burh. With a sum as large as this moving from the House, someone was bound to hear about it. That information would be sold and passed through many hands before finally finding itself in Valerius’s. It would take him time to travel south and sort everything out, but he would have no reason to wait upon returning to send someone to recover his iron.

Legally, he had no recourse; she was the lawful heir at the time of his death, but there were many forms of law on the frontier, and a court fine for false witness was the least of our worries.

Lira took a handful of iron coins from the pile and another handful of smaller coins to supplement her own purse. She then insisted I take some. I refused. She insisted. Eventually, she gave up arguing and stuffed a handful of coins