Book 2 Ch 39: Marquis

They call orcs savages, but the orcs never rode our dead across the sea as they screamed for release.

• An Elvish mercenary

Solomon was uncomfortable. His father had taken him and his brothers on a hunting trip in the Reach once and even with the palatial tent he’d slept in he’d been distinctly miserable. The trip through Manacht was nothing so pleasant as that. The tent and padding he slept on left him sore and miserable, the sounds of the plains were neither the calming noises of his manor settling, nor the chirping of birds in the forests, and he had now gone four days without a bath. He knew, objectively, that these were foolish and soft complaints so he kept them to himself, but when they reached the waystation he allowed himself the faintest hope of a decent bed and at least a cold bath. It was possible he could’ve raised enough fuss to travel in tremendous style, but he’d read more than one account of frivolous nobility being targeted by the orcs for kidnapping or assassination because they made themselves too obvious.

As they rode into the waystation he noticed the mages and soldiers growing tense. After they were through the gate a sergeant approached them.

“Welcome back Zane, how was the trip?”

“Thank you Baz. Repelled one raid, otherwise quiet… is the Marquis in?”

Sergeant Baz shook his head. “No. He’s off on one of his hunts with his men on the front.”

The moment the soldiers with him heard that the Marquis and his men weren’t there it was as if a weight had been lifted. Their shoulders stopped drooping and some smiles even appeared on their faces.

Solomon turned to Jakul.

“There’s a Marquis here?” he asked. That was just below a duke, but he had never heard of anyone of that rank being at the front.

Jakul shook his head.

“He’s not actually a Marquis, though supposedly he was a noble of some sort. That's just what he’s called.”

“I get the impression that you don’t favor him.”

Jakul hesitated.

“After everyone is settled in we can talk about him. Not the best idea to speak openly of him right here at the gate.”

Solomon nodded, his curiosity piqued enough that he forgot his discomfort momentarily.

Once the gate was closed behind them, the Untoss began to unload the cart and exchange some of the goods with other items at the waystation. The soldiers all made their way to a small cantina where they shared drinks and Solomon was led to a building along the far wall of the station that was built of stone by Sergeant Baz.

He was anticipating some sort of officers quarters, something spartan, but far more comfortable than a thin pad in a small tent.

As he was led inside though, he was surprised. The stone floors were covered in lush carpet adorned in elaborate patterns. The walls had portraits of nobility from nearly a hundred years prior, and between them were hand woven tapestries in an old style. He was led through halls filled with these until they reached his room. The bed was massive, with a canopy that could be fully sealed by lush white fabric. There was a claw footed tub in a corner, and it was heavily decorated in a gaudy fashion from decades prior. He looked with confusion at the sergeant.

“Marquis insists that any visiting nobility be made as comfortable as possible in his personal guest suite.”

“I see…”

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“We’ll have some Untoss bring your things and prepare your bath. It should only be a few moments.”

“Thank you.”

The Sergeant gave him a perfect bow and then calmly walked out.

Solomon looked at Edmure.

“Is this as strange as it appears?” he asked.

Edmure nodded. “Yes Lord. It is very strange. I have never seen such an odd and eclectic mix of styles.”

“It looks almost as if he filled it with whatever it is he could find that had even the faintest impression of aristocracy and threw it all together.”

Edmure nodded, and Solomon could see the tiredness in the man’s eyes and expression. He was a very healthy man, but he was older and it was clear that the travel had caused him some difficulty.

“Take the rest of the night off,” he said.

“Sir?”

“Rest, bathe. I can’t have everyone thinking I don’t treat my staff well. Clearly rumors here spread quickly,” he added the last part with heavy sarcasm given how little of what was going on in Manacht he’d heard beyond general reports of conflicts with orcs.

Edmure smiled lightly. “Thank you, sir.” He bowed and left the room.

Solomon waited until Untoss servants brought his things and ran him a bath. He took his time bathing, the soap he was given turned out to be heavily perfumed with rose scent which he did not favor, but it was just nice to feel clean. When he was done he finally felt like himself again.

He dressed and decided to make his way to the cantina. He wasn’t terribly interested in what kind of food or drink they may have, but he was quite curious about what Jakul might have to say about the Marquis.

He turned a number of heads and received several surprised bows as he walked through the station, all of the bows flawless as if they’d been practiced heavily. At the cantina itself he was immediately provided with a fine cut of meat and a far nicer wine than he’d been expecting. He looked around until he saw Jakul and the other mages and walked to sit with them.

As he walked he scanned the area and saw Edmure in the corner playing cards with a number of exasperated looking men, a neutral expression on his face. If that’s how he chose to relax, Solomon wouldn’t judge him for it.

He sat across from Jakul and exchanged polite greetings with the rest of them.

“So, will you tell me more about this Marquis now?” he asked.

Jakul made a gesture at Baru who raised a hand and whispered, his mana pulsing as only the faintest of barriers formed around them.

Solomon looked at him curiously.

“It’s a barrier to prevent sound from escaping us.”

Solomon raised an eyebrow, that would be a tremendously useful spell to have. Unfortunately Baru had been speaking too faintly for him to hear the incantation that worked with it.

“The Marquis,” started Jakul with a frown. “The Marquis is…”

“He’s a freak,” remarked Baru

“Yeah,” nodded Jakul. “He’s a freak.”

Solomon nodded, swirling his wine around for just a moment. “I have to admit I was expecting a bit more detail than that.”

“He wears old noble clothes. Wigs, powder, tights, all of it. Even when he’s in the field. He insists on being treated as royalty even though no one is even sure of what rank of noble he is, or even if he is noble.”

“Where does he fall in the military hierarchy?”

“He’s… somewhere between an auxiliary and a mercenary?”

“Then how is he in charge of this waystation?”

“He’s not, there’s a lieutenant that’s actually in charge, but the man tends to give him whatever he wants and I can’t blame him.”

“Why?” asked Solomon. “There must be a reason for all this special treatment of him?”

“Because he’s really good at killing,” offered Baru.

“Excuse me?” asked Solomon, his fork halfway to his mouth.

“That’s basically the sum of it. The man can kill, even wearing his tights and makeup he’s been known to take on a squad of orcs singlehandedly. Though it’s not just that he kills them… He savages them. He’ll capture one and make it play servant for his dinner before torturing it to death. He’ll break one’s spine and leave it in the deepest part of the jungle. I once saw him,” Jakul hesitated and took a quick sip of his drink. “I saw him use a head like a puppet once he found out another group of orcs nearby were members of the same clan.”

“How does he do it? Is he a mage of some sort?”

“Not that anyone can tell. In fact, I usually have difficulty casting around him. Though luckily I’ve only worked with him twice.”

“I can see why everyone was so uncomfortable when they thought he was here.”

They nodded.

“I’ve heard that he’s actually not allowed back in Drakthiss. His proclivities make him unwanted there, but he’s considered too useful to get rid of. Orcs are afraid of him, and that’s not something I’ve ever heard claimed about anyone else.”

Solomon nodded, continuing to eat even though the rest of the table seemed to have lost its appetite. The Marquise sounded terrible, but also interesting. He wasn’t sure that he’d want to encounter him, but he was curious about the man’s source of strength.

He finished the rest of his meal, and by the end of it the others had switched to talking more about their learning experience at the academy and their specialties. He didn’t mind the change in topic, and quietly absorbed all he could as he enjoyed sitting at a table to eat for the first time in days.