“I’ll do my best,” Bertrand said. 

Given time, the full weight of the responsibilities given to Bertrand would make themselves felt. However, Marc would not be here to see for himself as he had to get ready to leave. At least I’m already packed.

“You’ll make a fine Steward,” Marc said. “You have the heart to help our people, and I have the courage to keep the enemy at bay… I must go.”

Marc was about to kick off towards the stable, when he caught the sound of Bertrand clearing his throat. That had often how he reminded his students they forgot something. What did I forget?

“Given the time, you three shall be my witnesses,” Marc went on. “I hereby declare that Bertrand Comminges will stand as my Steward during absence. Given my obligations, I must report to the garrison.”

There were no words exchanged. They all shared the same slack jaw and wide eyes, as though they never expected it, including Bertrand. Being elevated to act in the Comte’s place in his absence as a guardsman was quite the leap.

“I have full trust in your abilities,” Marc said. “Rule as I would, and while war is upon us, find a way to give our people some room to breathe. Had my Father been alive still, the locals would have revolted and surrendered this land to Spain.”

“I’ll do my best,” Bertrand said.

“We are at war with Spain,” Marc said. “That cancels my leave of absence, so I’ll have to head back to my garrison.”

Those words were purposefully loud enough for those lingering to hear. That was purposeful, because he had to get around the fact he was needed in two places at once. 

“You three,” Marc said looking at the nearest guards and messenger. “I’ll need your names.”

Without hesitation all three complied. He first turned to the messenger and said. 

“I formally accept this letter and responsibility bestowed upon me,” Marc said. “My first duty as Comte is to assign a Steward who will comply with the King’s direction.”

After exchanging a couple of words with the guard, the messenger went directly for Marc. Despite the slack jaw, likely brought on by the sight of Marc’s uniform, he took the letter and broke the seal. That’s the King’s personal seal…

In the background the man Bertrand sent off earlier returned to the front gates. While not out of breath, his eyes were small and his face long, as though the effort had been taxing. They’ll need more drills to whip them into shape.

“Smart man.”

“Wise too. You two would get along.”

Like Marc the man rode straight in, pulling hard at the last minute to bring his horse to a stop. Any closer and he would have run the guard over. 

The rider was young, pale and wide eyed. Whatever he was carrying must have been serious. The two men looked at one another and came to the same conclusion. It can only mean one thing…

“War,” they said in unison.

“Guard,” Marc said. “Inform the stables of the messenger’s horse will need care… Have them prepare a horse as well.”

A guard broke ranks and left for the stables, within moments a new guard took his place. He realised that while Bertrand was a common guard, the weapons master made sure standards were upheld.

“You’re adjusting well to taking charge,” Bertrand commented. 

“To be fair, it was an awful couple of months after my promotion. The switch between following and leading was not immediately obvious,” Marc said. “The Adjudant had been in since Cain, and stepped in after I failed. Only then was I ready to follow his advice.”

“Smart man.”

In the distance Marc caught the sight of a horse and rider racing towards the Keep. As judged by the appearance of the horse, it had been driven hard.

“This can’t be good,” Marc said.

Bertrand broke away and turned to have a look. Riders rarely rode through town at a full gallop, and as he approached the colours of King’s messengers were clear.

“He wouldn’t send a messenger to ease the transition?” Marc asked.

“I doubt he follows changes in his court that closely,” Bertrand said. “Besides, the hate your Father had for the King was mutual…”

“You have been slacking off ever since you got here…” Bertrand replied. 

Marc looked at all the workers and staff that made up the crowd. This was not an ideal spot to outline his priorities. We need to do better than what my Father would have done. 

“Isn’t there work to be done?” Bertrand said, sensing where Marc’s thoughts were.

As they dispersed, Marc grabbed his former mentor by the arm and brought him in for a hug. It was the least he could do to repay the man back for what he had done at the keep. I would have been stuck down there until my father got well enough to skin me alive. 

“Thank you for the support,” Marc said. “The world needs more of you.”

“I hope he suffered right up until Death came for him,” Marc said

In reality Marc wished that he had killed him, but that would have changed the course of his life. Our actions forge us and influence those surrounding us. 

His uncle would have never helped a known murderer to disappear. In the same vein, Marc would never agree to taking his birthright without witnessing better ways to lead and inspire people. 

“It’s high time we made some changes around here,” Marc said. 

“You have been slacking off ever since you got here…” Bertrand replied.

“Well,” Marc said. “That was fun.”

“It was, my lord,” Bertrand said. 

“What did he do to you?”

There was a pause and Marc could guess why. While those eyes glowed, the body was failing him. Marc knew that a soldier’s life was a young man’s game. 

“After three months in a cell, he had me flogged, and demoted.”That sounded like his father. While he could not implicate Bertrand in what happened, he castigated anyone close to Marc. To add insult to injury, they kept him around as a guard resulting in further humiliation. A daily reminder that crossing my Father came with repercussions…