“I’d like a good chat,” Drake agreed quietly. “In fact, I liked it so much I had Raylan make you chug a burnish potion to accelerate your healing. I would have done that earlier, but I didn’t know those potions existed until just recently.”
“You’re from another realm,” Samuel said evenly.
“You don’t sound surprised.”
“The former lord summoned people from realms beyond ours several times. He never explained why, and I never learned. It seems this time he summoned the wrong person.”
“Or the right one, for you guys.” Drake extended his hand. “Name’s Clint.”
Samuel simply eyed his hand. “Is touching hands a custom from your realm? If so, I would not recommend you attempt that in the capital. It is considered disrespectful to touch another lord unless they invite it.”
Drake noted Samuel didn’t instinctively call him lord, just like Valentia. Other than Lord Dickcheese and Lydia, Samuel possessed the most authority in the manor. Drake suspected that fact had vexed Dickcheese to no end. This man wasn’t going to give his trust easily.
Good. Drake wouldn’t want a man like that as his butler/spymaster anyway.
He lowered his hand. “Advice like that is exactly why I wanted you around. Though if we hit it off, I’ll show you a fist bump. In private.”
“That might be best.”
“For now, let’s chat. But first, before we do that... would you like to be less naked?”
Samuel glanced down at his body inside the sheet. His brow furrowed. He scratched idly at his bushy beard once more, one that made his face look like a Chia Pet, and then examined his nails. Which now seemed to have regenerated.
He glanced at Drake once more. “Do you have a razor in here?”
“Not in here, but I can ask Lydia.”
“She is setting up the camp and should not be bothered. We’ll simply chat now.”
“Not until I give my latest decree,” Drake said.
“Oh?” Samuel eyed him cautiously. “And what is that?”
Drake told him.
Afterward, Samuel stared in silence for longer than Drake felt comfortable with. Still, Drake didn’t break the silence. He wasn’t about to bend first.
“You have done this with everyone in the manor,” Samuel said flatly.
“I have.”
“You have changed a system that has served every lord of Gloomwood Manor in a way that it can never be changed back.”
“I did. Sorry, but you people had it wrong.”
“And you are so... confident... that you believe that you can arrive here, seize this title, and change how we have done things since the dawn of time?”
“I am,” Drake said. “But confidence is what you want in a manor lord, right?”
Samuel sat back. “Could I ask that you give me a complete summary of any other changes you have made?”
“You aren’t in favor of my new decree?”
“I don’t know how to answer you. I can’t offer an opinion on what you have done until I know more about what has happened while I was away.”
“That’s fair. But first, can I just say you’re remarkably lucid?”
Samuel frowned. “Has someone given you the impression I was prone to madness?”
“No, but, I mean... didn’t the old lord torture the shit out of you?” Drake winced at the idea. “That seems like that’d take a lot out of anyone.”
Samuel considered him in silence. He didn’t look offended, exactly, but he did look concerned. He looked like he was debating whether he should answer Drake’s question at all, and only now, as Drake reflected, did he wonder if he should have left Samuel’s compulsion in place just a little bit longer. Just until after their first interview.
No. Lydia trusted Samuel, and Valentia, and Olivia, and basically everyone Drake had spoken to. The entirety of Gloomwood Manor loved this guy, and Drake hoped that Samuel would eventually see Drake immediately freeing him as a gesture of good faith and not one of weakness. Either way, it was too late now. He’d take what he could get.
“Before we speak of that,” Samuel said, “I’d like you to answer my question. To offer you counsel, I need to know what has transpired while I was... recovering.”
So Drake was going to go first. “All right. Fair. Now make yourself comfortable, old man, because this is going to take a while.”
Samuel sat up as what was basically a naked man wrapped in a sheet with two week’s worth of beard growth, like a giant caterpillar. He somehow still looked as dignified as a dapper gentleman sitting down for his morning tea. “I’m listening.”
As people shouted outside and hammers hammered what he assumed were metal stakes into the ground, Drake recounted his many traumas and tribulations from the moment he found himself manacled to a table. Samuel said nothing and didn’t interrupt.
Still... Drake’s butler didn’t look like he wanted to run screaming, and Drake fed him the same story he’d fed Westin regarding the leviathan summoning. Best to keep the truth about the actual circumstances involved in that unforgivable crime with Lydia.
“So?” Drake asked once he was done. “In your opinion, how did I do?”
“Better than I’d expect,” Samuel said. “Not as good as I’d hope.”
Drake frowned. He’d hoped for a better evaluation from his new butler, given his list of fantastic fucking accomplishments, but perhaps that was just this new role trying to turn him into a standard manor lord. Full of himself and immune to criticism.
“All right then, Samuel. Let’s start with where I can improve. What’s first?”
The man didn’t ask if he was comfortable with criticism. Drake suspected he’d made that clear as he recounted the last few traumatizing weeks in detail. Instead, Samuel simply considered him like a man planning how he’d broach a difficult subject.
“The first matter we should discuss is how we refer to your predecessor. If you are comfortable with the realm knowing his name, then the proper name for your predecessor is Lord Crow. While the name you’ve ordered the manor staff to use is colorful—”
“You can’t tell me you don’t like Dickcheese.”
“—it is also highly inappropriate, and moreover, historically inaccurate.”
That actually annoyed Drake. “Why do you care if we call him Lord Dickcheese or Lord Nutsack? He was an asshole.”
“Please don’t mistake my concerns for lingering loyalty for Lord Crow. For many of the same reasons you do, I despise the man with fervor well beyond homicidal. However, we must also consider the reputation and legacy of Gloomwood Manor. Your manor.”
“From what I understand, our reputation isn’t all that great anyway.”
“Correct. However, you have made it clear you wish to improve our reputation among the other manors and the populace. While some other manors consider us dishonorable, they still recognize us as a manor. As an equal. We must also consider the noble court.”
That didn’t make any sense. “You’ve totally lost me, old man.”
“Your choice to demean the former lord appears childish.”
A rush of anger immediately flooded Drake, but he tamped it down as he considered Samuel’s claim. The man was speaking honestly and directly to him, just like he’d hoped.
“So what you’re saying is... if I have all my people call my predecessor Lord Dickcheese, even if he was a turd on legs, it looks bad to everyone else?”
“That is correct. Among the manors and the courts, the image we present to our peers is as much a part of our manor’s armor as our rarities and armies. While I have no doubt you find this moniker for Lord Crow amusing, should it spread outside the manor, even the lords who disliked Crow will take it as a sign of disrespect toward all manor lords.”
Drake sighed. “I’ll admit the joke has gotten stale. I imagine the other manor lords wouldn’t be thrilled to learn I tossed him on the poo pile and left him for the flies, either."
“Also correct. It is still considered proper to accord respect to a defeated lord no matter his crimes. A manor lord is a manor lord, both in life and after.”
“So we won’t tell them. Still, Dickcheese didn’t seem to care about all that.”
“He did not, and you have made it clear you are not him. Therefore, you must look beyond your reputation in your own manor. In every public decision and interaction, especially in the capital, you must consider how you will be perceived by enemies and allies.”
Another good point. Samuel was already proving a good addition to his advisors. But given the man had lasted through Dickcheese—no, it was Lord Crow now—and several others, that shouldn’t surprise him. Samuel had survived murder politics almost as long as Zuri.
“Point taken,” Drake said. “I’ll correct the order about Lord Crow at supper. What’s next?”
“Your priorities, and how you have acted upon them. You were correct to immediately resolve the issue with Westin Proudglade. It is good that he knows Lord Crow passed his title to you before he performed the unforgivable act you spoke of.”
“That was pretty smart of me.”
“However, you should then have immediately traveled to Korhaurbauten to announce your new title to the noble court. You have dallied too long with other matters. They will consider your lateness in presenting yourself as a slight.”
“Even though I was spending all my time getting abducted, chased, and almost murdered? Repeatedly? By half the damn realm?”
“The noble court does not accept excuses, nor would I suggest you offer them before other manor lords or the court itself. They expect all things to run as intended. The reasons why you have disrupted the order they intend does not matter and will not be taken into account.”
“Then they, Samuel, seem like a bucket of assholes.”
“Again, while it is fine to speak that way to me in the privacy of your own carriage, I would suggest you not do so even in the presence of your own blood thralls. Even if you are displeased with the noble court, they remain the most powerful ruling body in our realm. Should you consistently speak ill of them, word will reach their ears.”
Now Drake felt a hint of unease. “You think we have more spies in the manor?”
“Now that you have altered the blood pact to allow anyone who wishes to do so to betray us, we will leak information more easily than ever. News of your harsh words about the noble court, other manor lords, or anyone in power will reach the ears of those outside our manor with ease. I am your spymaster. As such, I know this better than most.”
Drake considered and, again, could find no fault in Samuel’s warning. “So no venting?”
“A word from your realm? I’m afraid I don’t know what it means.”
Drake considered and immediately discarded bitching, moaning, bellyaching, and even kicking up a stink. “What if I just want to complain, Samuel?”
“Complain to me. Complain to Lydia. I would suggest otherwise keeping your dissatisfaction with the noble court and other manor lords private from everyone else, even your own battle maids. Words are like sparks. Even the smallest can start a flame.”
“That’s pure poetry, Samuel. And point taken. But you’re going to be hearing a lot of complaining from me if we work together. I mean, a lot. Your world has it out for me.”
“I am aware this world can be harsh.” Given the man had recently been a pile of meat, Drake believed him.
“Good counsel so far,” Drake said. “I award you a gold star. Now, what else should I fix?”
“That is all I have for you at the moment, lord.”
Drake frowned. “Seriously? You said I didn’t do as good as you hoped.”
“Correct.”
“But that’s all you’ve got? Weighed against all I did?”
“Perhaps there is one more bit of advice I can give you. I do not know how things work in your realm, but in this one, as a man in your position, what is expected from you is nothing less than perfection. It does not matter if they be your blood thrall, your mediator, or even your hated enemy. Among manor lords, anything less than perfection is failure.”
“That is motivating, Samuel. It’s good to know the tiniest screw-up is going to undo even the most massive of accomplishments. It works kind of like your debt and crime system with manor lords, doesn’t it? I can stop all the demon summonings I want, but ultimately, because the guy two before me stuck his dick in a light socket, I get blamed.”
Samuel frowned. “That is the reality of serving as a manor lord. And if I may, can I also suggest you ease back on the sarcasm?”
“You can. I won’t. That stays. Sorry old man, but that’s just how we roll in Gloomwood Manor these days. Get in line or get out of the way.”
“Then I will only caution that you reserve your sharp tongue for those you know you can defeat in battle. Otherwise, you may quickly find new enemies will join the old.”
Drake chuckled as he considered everything he’d dealt with so far. “I don’t think I’ll have any problems in that regard. Other than the folks at the manor, practically everyone I’ve met has tried to kill me. It’s not like a little sarcasm is going to make that worse.”
“The fact that so many you’ve met have tried to murder you may not be the endorsement you think it is.”
“That goes both ways, Samuel. So far as I’m concerned, a whole lot of your fucked up fantasy world had it coming. For now, I’ll settle for keeping our manor safe.”
Samuel nodded. “On that priority, I assure you. We agree.”
“I’d like a good chat,” Drake agreed quietly. “In fact, I liked it so much I had Raylan make you chug a burnish potion to accelerate your healing. I would have done that earlier, but I didn’t know those potions existed until just recently.”
“You’re from another realm,” Samuel said evenly.
“You don’t sound surprised.”
“The former lord summoned people from realms beyond ours several times. He never explained why, and I never learned. It seems this time he summoned the wrong person.”
“Or the right one, for you guys.” Drake extended his hand. “Name’s Clint.”
Samuel simply eyed his hand. “Is touching hands a custom from your realm? If so, I would not recommend you attempt that in the capital. It is considered disrespectful to touch another lord unless they invite it.”
Drake noted Samuel didn’t instinctively call him lord, just like Valentia. Other than Lord Dickcheese and Lydia, Samuel possessed the most authority in the manor. Drake suspected that fact had vexed Dickcheese to no end. This man wasn’t going to give his trust easily.
Good. Drake wouldn’t want a man like that as his butler/spymaster anyway.
He lowered his hand. “Advice like that is exactly why I wanted you around. Though if we hit it off, I’ll show you a fist bump. In private.”
“That might be best.”
“For now, let’s chat. But first, before we do that... would you like to be less naked?”
Samuel glanced down at his body inside the sheet. His brow furrowed. He scratched idly at his bushy beard once more, one that made his face look like a Chia Pet, and then examined his nails. Which now seemed to have regenerated.
He glanced at Drake once more. “Do you have a razor in here?”
“Not in here, but I can ask Lydia.”
“She is setting up the camp and should not be bothered. We’ll simply chat now.”
“Not until I give my latest decree,” Drake said.
“Oh?” Samuel eyed him cautiously. “And what is that?”
Drake told him.
Afterward, Samuel stared in silence for longer than Drake felt comfortable with. Still, Drake didn’t break the silence. He wasn’t about to bend first.
“You have done this with everyone in the manor,” Samuel said flatly.
“I have.”
“You have changed a system that has served every lord of Gloomwood Manor in a way that it can never be changed back.”
“I did. Sorry, but you people had it wrong.”
“And you are so... confident... that you believe that you can arrive here, seize this title, and change how we have done things since the dawn of time?”
“I am,” Drake said. “But confidence is what you want in a manor lord, right?”
Samuel sat back. “Could I ask that you give me a complete summary of any other changes you have made?”
“You aren’t in favor of my new decree?”
“I don’t know how to answer you. I can’t offer an opinion on what you have done until I know more about what has happened while I was away.”
“That’s fair. But first, can I just say you’re remarkably lucid?”
Samuel frowned. “Has someone given you the impression I was prone to madness?”
“No, but, I mean... didn’t the old lord torture the shit out of you?” Drake winced at the idea. “That seems like that’d take a lot out of anyone.”
Samuel considered him in silence. He didn’t look offended, exactly, but he did look concerned. He looked like he was debating whether he should answer Drake’s question at all, and only now, as Drake reflected, did he wonder if he should have left Samuel’s compulsion in place just a little bit longer. Just until after their first interview.
No. Lydia trusted Samuel, and Valentia, and Olivia, and basically everyone Drake had spoken to. The entirety of Gloomwood Manor loved this guy, and Drake hoped that Samuel would eventually see Drake immediately freeing him as a gesture of good faith and not one of weakness. Either way, it was too late now. He’d take what he could get.
“Before we speak of that,” Samuel said, “I’d like you to answer my question. To offer you counsel, I need to know what has transpired while I was... recovering.”
So Drake was going to go first. “All right. Fair. Now make yourself comfortable, old man, because this is going to take a while.”
Samuel sat up as what was basically a naked man wrapped in a sheet with two week’s worth of beard growth, like a giant caterpillar. He somehow still looked as dignified as a dapper gentleman sitting down for his morning tea. “I’m listening.”
As people shouted outside and hammers hammered what he assumed were metal stakes into the ground, Drake recounted his many traumas and tribulations from the moment he found himself manacled to a table. Samuel said nothing and didn’t interrupt.
Still... Drake’s butler didn’t look like he wanted to run screaming, and Drake fed him the same story he’d fed Westin regarding the leviathan summoning. Best to keep the truth about the actual circumstances involved in that unforgivable crime with Lydia.
“So?” Drake asked once he was done. “In your opinion, how did I do?”
“Better than I’d expect,” Samuel said. “Not as good as I’d hope.”
Drake frowned. He’d hoped for a better evaluation from his new butler, given his list of fantastic fucking accomplishments, but perhaps that was just this new role trying to turn him into a standard manor lord. Full of himself and immune to criticism.
“All right then, Samuel. Let’s start with where I can improve. What’s first?”
The man didn’t ask if he was comfortable with criticism. Drake suspected he’d made that clear as he recounted the last few traumatizing weeks in detail. Instead, Samuel simply considered him like a man planning how he’d broach a difficult subject.
“The first matter we should discuss is how we refer to your predecessor. If you are comfortable with the realm knowing his name, then the proper name for your predecessor is Lord Crow. While the name you’ve ordered the manor staff to use is colorful—”
“You can’t tell me you don’t like Dickcheese.”
“—it is also highly inappropriate, and moreover, historically inaccurate.”
That actually annoyed Drake. “Why do you care if we call him Lord Dickcheese or Lord Nutsack? He was an asshole.”
“Please don’t mistake my concerns for lingering loyalty for Lord Crow. For many of the same reasons you do, I despise the man with fervor well beyond homicidal. However, we must also consider the reputation and legacy of Gloomwood Manor. Your manor.”
“From what I understand, our reputation isn’t all that great anyway.”
“Correct. However, you have made it clear you wish to improve our reputation among the other manors and the populace. While some other manors consider us dishonorable, they still recognize us as a manor. As an equal. We must also consider the noble court.”
That didn’t make any sense. “You’ve totally lost me, old man.”
“Your choice to demean the former lord appears childish.”
A rush of anger immediately flooded Drake, but he tamped it down as he considered Samuel’s claim. The man was speaking honestly and directly to him, just like he’d hoped.
“So what you’re saying is... if I have all my people call my predecessor Lord Dickcheese, even if he was a turd on legs, it looks bad to everyone else?”
“That is correct. Among the manors and the courts, the image we present to our peers is as much a part of our manor’s armor as our rarities and armies. While I have no doubt you find this moniker for Lord Crow amusing, should it spread outside the manor, even the lords who disliked Crow will take it as a sign of disrespect toward all manor lords.”
Drake sighed. “I’ll admit the joke has gotten stale. I imagine the other manor lords wouldn’t be thrilled to learn I tossed him on the poo pile and left him for the flies, either."
“Also correct. It is still considered proper to accord respect to a defeated lord no matter his crimes. A manor lord is a manor lord, both in life and after.”
“So we won’t tell them. Still, Dickcheese didn’t seem to care about all that.”
“He did not, and you have made it clear you are not him. Therefore, you must look beyond your reputation in your own manor. In every public decision and interaction, especially in the capital, you must consider how you will be perceived by enemies and allies.”
Another good point. Samuel was already proving a good addition to his advisors. But given the man had lasted through Dickcheese—no, it was Lord Crow now—and several others, that shouldn’t surprise him. Samuel had survived murder politics almost as long as Zuri.
“Point taken,” Drake said. “I’ll correct the order about Lord Crow at supper. What’s next?”
“Your priorities, and how you have acted upon them. You were correct to immediately resolve the issue with Westin Proudglade. It is good that he knows Lord Crow passed his title to you before he performed the unforgivable act you spoke of.”
“That was pretty smart of me.”
“However, you should then have immediately traveled to Korhaurbauten to announce your new title to the noble court. You have dallied too long with other matters. They will consider your lateness in presenting yourself as a slight.”
“Even though I was spending all my time getting abducted, chased, and almost murdered? Repeatedly? By half the damn realm?”
“The noble court does not accept excuses, nor would I suggest you offer them before other manor lords or the court itself. They expect all things to run as intended. The reasons why you have disrupted the order they intend does not matter and will not be taken into account.”
“Then they, Samuel, seem like a bucket of assholes.”
“Again, while it is fine to speak that way to me in the privacy of your own carriage, I would suggest you not do so even in the presence of your own blood thralls. Even if you are displeased with the noble court, they remain the most powerful ruling body in our realm. Should you consistently speak ill of them, word will reach their ears.”
Now Drake felt a hint of unease. “You think we have more spies in the manor?”
“Now that you have altered the blood pact to allow anyone who wishes to do so to betray us, we will leak information more easily than ever. News of your harsh words about the noble court, other manor lords, or anyone in power will reach the ears of those outside our manor with ease. I am your spymaster. As such, I know this better than most.”
Drake considered and, again, could find no fault in Samuel’s warning. “So no venting?”
“A word from your realm? I’m afraid I don’t know what it means.”
Drake considered and immediately discarded bitching, moaning, bellyaching, and even kicking up a stink. “What if I just want to complain, Samuel?”
“Complain to me. Complain to Lydia. I would suggest otherwise keeping your dissatisfaction with the noble court and other manor lords private from everyone else, even your own battle maids. Words are like sparks. Even the smallest can start a flame.”
“That’s pure poetry, Samuel. And point taken. But you’re going to be hearing a lot of complaining from me if we work together. I mean, a lot. Your world has it out for me.”
“I am aware this world can be harsh.” Given the man had recently been a pile of meat, Drake believed him.
“Good counsel so far,” Drake said. “I award you a gold star. Now, what else should I fix?”
“That is all I have for you at the moment, lord.”
Drake frowned. “Seriously? You said I didn’t do as good as you hoped.”
“Correct.”
“But that’s all you’ve got? Weighed against all I did?”
“Perhaps there is one more bit of advice I can give you. I do not know how things work in your realm, but in this one, as a man in your position, what is expected from you is nothing less than perfection. It does not matter if they be your blood thrall, your mediator, or even your hated enemy. Among manor lords, anything less than perfection is failure.”
“That is motivating, Samuel. It’s good to know the tiniest screw-up is going to undo even the most massive of accomplishments. It works kind of like your debt and crime system with manor lords, doesn’t it? I can stop all the demon summonings I want, but ultimately, because the guy two before me stuck his dick in a light socket, I get blamed.”
Samuel frowned. “That is the reality of serving as a manor lord. And if I may, can I also suggest you ease back on the sarcasm?”
“You can. I won’t. That stays. Sorry old man, but that’s just how we roll in Gloomwood Manor these days. Get in line or get out of the way.”
“Then I will only caution that you reserve your sharp tongue for those you know you can defeat in battle. Otherwise, you may quickly find new enemies will join the old.”
Drake chuckled as he considered everything he’d dealt with so far. “I don’t think I’ll have any problems in that regard. Other than the folks at the manor, practically everyone I’ve met has tried to kill me. It’s not like a little sarcasm is going to make that worse.”
“The fact that so many you’ve met have tried to murder you may not be the endorsement you think it is.”
“That goes both ways, Samuel. So far as I’m concerned, a whole lot of your fucked up fantasy world had it coming. For now, I’ll settle for keeping our manor safe.”
Samuel nodded. “On that priority, I assure you. We agree.”
