“Great Lord Titanbend, my deepest appreciation for your time,” Josiah says as he bows deeply.

  “Lord Softrain. Welcome. Please take a seat.” The cold tone belies the words of welcome. Still, Josiah wasn’t expecting anything else – his House has never been at odds with Titanbend, but they haven’t been allies either. Standing upright, he is momentarily transfixed by the gaze that snares his own.

  Dark purple, almost black eyes stare emotionlessly into him as if debating whether binding his soul is worth the effort. Shaken, Josiah drops his gaze, breaking eye contact. He’d discounted the rumours that Lord Titanbend was capable of enslaving men with his eyes, but he suddenly gives them a little more credit. He abruptly doubts why he’s here – do they really want to ally with one such as House Titanbend, however honourable its lord is said to be?

  Lord Titanbend clears his throat, almost making Josiah jump. He looks up briefly, then colours as he sees the other lord gesture to the seat opposite him across the immense desk.

  Calling up the beginnings of his family’s hallmark Skill, Josiah allows the calmness that always comes with drawing upon water to suffuse him. He doesn’t actually make the rain manifest itself – experience has taught him that most people don’t like him calling a rainstorm inside, even when it’s light, soft rain. But just touching it is enough to refresh his mind and settle his nerves.

  He steps forward and seats himself in the chair. It’s less ornate than he thought it might be – the whole mansion is. Not in a poverty-stricken way; if anything, the reverse – Josiah has seen a couple of Houses low on coppers choosing to fill their mansions with ornate and lavish items just to conceal the true state of their financial affairs.

  Lord Titanbend’s furniture and equipment are all well-made and serviceable, the kind of items which one with a less-keen eye might see as being mundane and dull. But Josiah can see the faint twists of runes in the bold carvings of the desk in front of him, and even in the arms of his own chair. He’s no rune-smith, so can’t tell what they would do, but he would guess that they’re for durability and reinforcement. They’re certainly not for comfort; Josiah has to fight the urge to shift on the hard chair.

  “What brings you here, Lord Softrain?” Lord Titanbend asks, bringing Josiah’s wandering mind back to the topic at hand. He guiltily drags his gaze back to look at the other lord, though he doesn’t quite dare make contact with those unsettling eyes again. Instead, he uses a trick his mother taught him – look at the bridge of the person’s nose and no one can tell that you’re not looking in their eyes. Well, Lord Titanbend probably can if he feels the lack of connection which Josiah does, but the young lord hopes that he won’t hold it against Josiah.

  With his peripheral vision, he takes a quick observation of the lord, never having actually met the man in person. He has dark brown hair and tanned skin, the features quite unlike most of the kingdom lords who tend towards being fair-skinned and pale-haired. Josiah immediately feels a hint of connection as his own family is a bit of an outlier there too.

  He wonders if Lord Titanbend has had to deal with the whispers of more gossipy lords and ladies twittering that Lord Titanbend appears more like the labourers in the fields than one of the lords who owns them. Though, the fineness of the Great Lord’s features, those purple eyes, and the slight pointedness of his ears spoke of a far more exotic heritage than Josiah’s own.

  The Great Lord clears his throat again meaningfully. Josiah feels a wave of colour rise in his cheeks at getting caught staring.

  “My apologies, Great Lord,” he says quickly. “I was distracted by my thoughts.”

  “Indeed,” the lord answers, his tone announcing its disapproval with its sheer neutrality. Josiah feels the flush in his cheeks intensifying and he half-calls his Soft-Rain Skill once more just to cool the heat.

  “It was an interesting announcement from the king yesterday, was it not?” the young lord starts, doing his best to be conversational. He wilts slightly as he receives no response other than a level stare. He clears his throat again, regretting that Layton had taken Lady Goldmine. That Great Lady is unsettling in that one always feels like one is being valued like an object, but at least she engages in the normal routine of conversation.

  Seeing as Lord Titanbend doesn’t seem to want to be conversational, Josiah decides to throw the careful approach off the ramparts and just go for it. “I was wondering what your intentions are for the King’s challenge?”

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  The other lord doesn’t reply for a long moment, his eyes seeming to pin Josiah down in place. Many of the rumours talk about eye-contact, but is this lord able to see souls even without it? The young lord struggles not to shift in his seat and he reabsorbs the beads of sweat which emerge from his brow before they can catch the light and betray his nerves.

  “Why do you ask?” inquires Lord Titanbend finally, the neutral rumble of his voice a relief after the excruciating wait. Not that his response was much of a relief in itself. Josiah carefully considered his words before speaking – appearing too eager was a problem, but not appearing interested enough might mean that he left empty-handed.

  “As I’m sure you’re aware, my House is far smaller and meaner than your own illustrious heritage. I was hoping that you could…guide us a little by explaining your own intentions.” There. That should be sufficient hint that they would perhaps be interested in an alliance without coming out and saying it outright.

  The lord stares silently at Josiah for another long, agonising moment.

  “House Titanbend will take our proper place in the challenge,” Lord Titanbend answers with a note of finality in his voice. Josiah fights not to react to the confirmation that, despite the lack of heir, the House would truly not be abstaining. “More may be revealed to trusted friends and allies in the proper time.”

  “And might you be interested in expanding your circle of trusted friends and allies?” inquires Josiah carefully.

  “Friends and allies can come from curious places,” Lord Titanbend answers offhandedly. “From all walks of life, of all ages. We bind ourselves together with mutual benefit and mutual obligation, do we not?” he asks as if it’s merely a throw-away comment, but Josiah knows far better than to take it as one.

  “Indeed, friends and allies support and help each other, and benefit together as a result,” he agrees cautiously. “Yet sometimes it’s hard to know how each can help, especially when they come from such different walks of life,” he comments.

  “Indeed,” Lord Titanbend answers, and then smiles. Josiah watches as his face practically transforms with the expression, no longer the forbidding, stern mien of before. “But that is what makes life interesting, is it not?”

  They exchange a few more carefully couched words and then Josiah takes his leave politely. As he is guided by a servant from the room and to where his horse is waiting for him outside the front doors, his mind whirls.

  House Titanbend is not only going to take part, but is actively looking for allies, and doesn’t much care if they are powerful or not. And in return, Lord Nicholas is willing to seek mutual benefit, not merely his own House’s advantage. That’s more than most Great Lords would offer – the protection of being part of an alliance with a Great House is considered to be the greatest advantage to joining one. Layton needs to hear of this!

  *****

  A lady dressed in ornately-embroidered clothing stands at the window, watching as Minor Lord Layton Heatwave rides off in his carriage.

  “A mewling pup,” speaks a voice from the doorway disdainfully. The lady remains watching the carriage until it disappears around the corner of the massive wall around her estate.

  “I do not tell you how to control water, Lord Torrent,” she tells him languidly, but with a hint of steel which makes no mistake that she means her words. “Do not try to tell me how to value a potential product.”

  “I thought I asked you to call me Roland, Clarissa.” At that she does turn to fix him with a look that makes him take a step back.

  “We are allies only insofar as Titanbend is concerned, Lord Torrent,” she replies with emphasis. “I would thank you to not claim more familiarity than I have allowed.”

  “Fine, Lady Goldmine,” the lord answers with irritation replacing his previous friendliness. “I have come for an update. Have your products found any information on whether Titanbend is intending on choosing an heir or going himself? We need to make plans for both. I was expecting him to just abstain and take the consequences for doing so – isn’t it just like him to throw the glabas among the chickens?”

  It was Lady Goldmine’s turn to look disdainfully at her companion.

  “If you had paid attention to my missives and our opponent’s character, you would have realised that Titanbend choosing to take part in the competition was more likely than for him to abstain, however much we might have prodded things towards that outcome.”

  “But he loses more if he goes himself and gets killed,” protests Lord Torrent. “That will rip his House apart!”

  “Which means he’s unlikely to do that,” Lady Goldmine tells him with concealed irritation. “I don’t need information from my products to come to that conclusion. No,” she says, turning towards the window. “The question is more about who he’s going to select as heir – and whether we can turn them to our interests first.”

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