Chapter 132: Lord of Cold Iron

House Cavel received Encrid’s letter on the third day.

It was faster than any ordinary courier in the Empire could have managed.

The letter was not delivered to the mansion gate.

Instead, a man appeared in the yard and walked straight through the household’s security as if it were nothing more than an open road.

He went directly to Lord Ferris Cavel’s steward, handed him the letter, and said only one thing.

"It is very important that Lord Ferris reads this."

Then he disappeared.

The steward stared after him for several seconds before looking down at the letter.

He saw the name written on the letter,

Strategist of the wall - Encrid Gannon.

He took one look at the seal and went straight upstairs without asking a single question.

Lord Ferris Cavel was standing by a window in his dressing gown when the letter was placed in his hands.

There were very few documents in the world that could make a man like Ferris Cavel do anything before breakfast.

He had managed the Cold Iron mines and everything attached to them for twenty-six years.

He had dealt with contracts, miners, merchants, guilds, nobles, accidents, shortages, strikes, and more arguments than he cared to remember.

A letter rarely impressed him.

This one did.

He read it once.

Then he read it again.

His second son entered halfway through the second reading.

Ellis Cavel had heard about the strange man in the yard who had somehow walked through the mansion’s security without being stopped. His instincts had told him that anything capable of putting that expression on the steward’s face was probably worth taking to his father.

"Father."

"Read this."

Ferris held the letter out without turning around.

Ellis took it.

It was dull.

Three full pages of figures and practical requests.

The first page explained what was coming toward the Wall in the north and when it was expected to arrive.

There were estimates.

Numbers of creatures.

Numbers of people at the Wall.

Distances.

Days.

Supply figures.

The second page was a request.

Encrid wanted weapons.

Spearheads. Arrows. Javelin stock. Finished bills. Pike heads.

Anything House Cavel had sitting in a warehouse that could be put into someone’s hands and used immediately.

As much as Lord Cavel could spare.

He wanted it moved north at once, by whatever road could carry a wagon.

The third page was only one paragraph.

Ellis read it twice.

My lord, I cannot pay you for this. Not now, and very likely not ever, and I am not going to insult you by pretending there is a contract at the end of it. What I can tell you is the thing I would want to know if I were standing where you are. If this Wall falls, the horde comes south across the Riven, and there is nothing between that river and your house except six days of open road.

Make your own decision. I would only ask that you make it this week, or else it will be too late.

Ellis lowered the pages.

"He is asking you for the entire year’s output."

Ferris was still looking out of the window.

"He is asking me for rather more than that. The finished stock in the northern warehouse alone is eleven hundred spearheads. Then there is the Dellen contract, which I would have to break. And the guild delivery in the spring had to be default on it."

Ellis looked at his father.

"And there is no payment."

"There will be no payment or contract," Ferris said. "And there is no possibility of recovering any of it if he is wrong."

He finally turned around.

"Do you know what the interesting part is?"

Ellis thought for a moment.

"That he does not claim the weapons will be enough to stop the horde."

"Yes."

A small movement touched the old man’s mouth.

"Every man who has ever tried to frighten me into making a bad decision has told me he was certain. They always pretend that they know exactly what will happen. They always have some guarantee."

He tapped the letter against his palm.

"But this boy has given me three pages of figures, a warning, and an instruction to make my own decision."

Ellis said nothing.

Ferris looked at the letter again.

"And he has the audacity to tell me he would not pay me for any of it."

Ellis remained silent.

Ferris Cavel stood by the window for another minute.

Then he swore at Encrid.

He did it thoroughly and at considerable length, using the particular language of a man who had come up through a mine before he came up through a noble house.

The steward standing in the doorway slowly changed colour.

He had not heard most of those words in nearly a decade.

By the time Ferris finished, he was already moving.

"Send word to the northern warehouse. Have everything finished loaded onto wagons today."

The steward hurried forward.

"Today, my lord?"

"I said today."

"Yes, my lord."

"Send to Harn. Tell him the Dellen contract is broken. I will pay the penalty personally, and I do not want to discuss it."

"Father-"

"Wake the foremen."

Ferris was already walking toward the door.

"Every forge runs day and night until I say otherwise. Double the pay for the duration. Any man who does not want to work can go home. I will not think less of him for it."

He stopped.

Then he picked up Encrid’s letter from the table one last time.

"Ellis."

"Yes, Father?"

"Get a rider on the road within the hour."

Ellis straightened.

"Have him tell the Strategist of the Wall that the iron is coming."

Ferris looked at the letter.

"And tell him that the Lord of Cold Iron has made his decision."

Ellis was silent for a moment.

He was almost at the door when he stopped.

"And if he is wrong, Father?"

Ferris chuckled.

"If he is wrong, then I have ruined a very good year."

He folded the letter once.

"And I will spend the rest of my life being extremely unpleasant to him about it."

Ellis smiled faintly.

Ferris looked toward the north.

"But if he is right..."

His expression became serious.

"I would rather the iron was already there."

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