The Cerberus Rebellion (A Griffins & Gunpowder Novel) Read Online Free PDF Page B

frock-coat and trousers. He was much shorter than most of the men in the hall, though not so short as some of the women. He clutched a fine leather satchel in his gloved hands; the King's sigil was embroidered on the flap.
    “My lord, I am Sir Albert Hagan, messenger of the King.” The messenger inclined his head. Raedan frowned.
    Who is this messenger that he thinks that he doesn't have to kneel before a Noble of Ansgar? Raedan felt a flush of anger creep up his face.
    “In these lands, it’s customary to kneel before a noble.” Raedan leaned forward, elbows on knees, and intertwined his fingers. “Especially in that noble's own keep.”
    “I am weary,” the messenger explained. Somewhere in his heritage there must have been at least one ancestor from Steimor or Nordahr, because his blue-green eyes were not a common trait among those native to Ansgar. “I have traveled far at the King's command.”
    “I see.” Raedan nodded and sat up against the back of his seat, his fingers still intertwined. He didn't care for the man's invocation of the king’s name.
    The messenger had the look of entitlement that was common among the nobility of the East. The eastern nobles and lords had larger populations, higher incomes, and often had servant staffs twice as large as the nobles in the West. A noble in the West sometimes had to get his hands dirty, as Raedan had done when he reclaimed this territory from a hostile force. An eastern lord would have likely sat back in his keep and let his knights do the work for him.
    “Be that as it may, you will not be heard until you take the knee.”
    Several petitioners inhaled sharp breaths.
    “As you command, my lord.” The messenger's voice dripped acid. He knelt before Raedan and inclined his head. His arms swept back in a grand, overstated motion. “I kneel before you, oh Lord of the Broken Plains.”
    Damon caressed the massive ruby ring on his right hand. He might have been a Master Shadowmage, but the elf knew several Deathbringer spells that would have turned the messenger into a quivering pile of flesh.
    “ Peace, Master ,” Raedan whispered under his breath in elven. The elf removed his hand from his ring.
    “My lord?” the messenger said as he stood.
    “All I asked was the respect due to me,” Raedan said without sign of insult. “What message do you bring?”
    “I bring this satchel.” The messenger presented the pouch to Damon. “It contains orders from His Majesty that are to be completed immediately.”
    Damon inspected it. “The seal is intact,” he announced.
    “As if it would be any other way,” the messenger huffed.
    Raedan wasn't sure where this man's unwarranted aggression had come from, but he had tired of it quickly.
    “Open it,” Raedan instructed. He studied the messenger for a moment while his advisor cut the heavy wax seal. The man watched the elf open the satchel and retrieve the stack of papers from inside.
    “My lord—”
    “What is in that satchel is for me to read. But do you really think that I'm not going to discuss its contents with my chief advisor? Does it really matter, then, who reads it first?”
    “No, my lord,” the messenger bristled.
    Raedan decided that he was through with the man's attitude. He rubbed the onyx stone in the amulet about his neck and reached out with his mind. Manipulation of the mind was one of the staples of a Shadowmage.
    “ Calm down, boy ,” Raedan hissed in elven, barely loud enough for the messenger to hear.
    “Yes, my lord.” The messenger nodded dully, his eyes suddenly cloudy.
    “ I have no patience for your arrogance ,” Raedan continued in the silky smooth language. “ I will hear no more from you. ”
    “Yes, my lord.”
    “What do the papers say?” Raedan asked.
    “My lord, it would be best if we retired to your study to discuss these letters,” Damon whispered, concern heavy in his voice.
    “My petitioners are dismissed for today. Stewards, see to it that the lesser lords are