A week passed since the funeral of Duke Aldris II, and with it the last vestiges of winter faded into the first blooms of spring, starting with a downpour of water that washed away snow and ice.
After a formal ceremony in which he was anointed Duke by the Bishop of Medwick, the most influential churchman in Albion, and formally sworn into the office by an Imperial official who had been hurriedly sent from the capital, he had been thrown into his new position in full.
Dozens of petitioners flocked to Leechin Castle everyday in order to lay out their grievances and request judgement on matters either too complicated or too unimportant for court. As Duke of Albion, Ander had the authority to act on the Emperor's behalf in order to uphold the Imperial Law in Albion. This meant in complicated matters over inheritance, land claims and even the misconduct of his vassals, Ander had the authority to act and make far-reaching judgements. The first of which, was a major test for his early rule.
"Do you swear, on the Gods old and new, that what you say is the truth and nothing but the truth?" Ander asked sternly, feeling guilty as the terrified peasant girl trembled even harder before him.
"I-I do so swear milord. " The girl muttered, hands shaking against her tattered skirt. "I'm no liar. I promise."
"A peasant's word is dependant upon their worth." Interjected the Aldrick of Oldenborough, who stood in a wooden box to the right of the girl, and separated by a dozen of Ander's guards. The man had requested his own men be allowed entry into the keep, where the trial was being held, but Ander had forbid the request. It would be all too easy of the Baron to find someone in his fief who had either nothing left to lose or a mountain of blackmail with which he could leverage against them, using them to assassinate the girl and take the fall. "And a peasant's worth is dependant upon how hard they work. This girl has done no hard work her whole life."
"I sew and weave everyday!" The girl protested, causing outraged murmurings amongst the watching courtiers at a mere peasant speaking out of turn.
"Then where are the scars? The bloodied hands?" The Baron retorted, glaring at the girl who gripped the edges of the wooden box for strength. "If you do not work until your hands bleed you are no hard worker girl, not like your late father who worked in the fields until his back broke and his legs gave. That was a real, worthy, honourable peasant, and he would be ashamed to see you leverage such outrageous accusations without a mark of evidence."
He was winning the courtiers, who could not care less about the peasantry. A smaller, quieter part of the court remained silent, and those were likely the ones sympathetic to the girls plight.
It wasn't often a Baron or knight or lord could get brought down for charges of maltreatment or misconduct. One of the few cases allowed by Imperial Law were rape, especially in cases where the victim was lawfully married.
The girl was not married, making her case harder in legal terms.
Part of Ander wondered how many were supporting Baron Aldrick out of genuine agreement towards his innocence or fear of making the man an enemy, who had earned a reputation for cruelty and abuse, especially towards his poor wife.
"Enough!" Ander called, and a Sergeant of his guard, a man named Tom, slammed the butt of his spear against the stone ground, bringing the crowd to silence. He frequently swapped out the men who served on court duty, rewarding those who performed well in training with extra coin with which to visit the local taverns and brothels and those who under-performed being sent to guard or court duty, the most dreaded jobs in the guard for the sheer boredom they contained. "May I see your hands miss, since the Baron seems intent on making them such a critical part of his defense?"
"Y-Yes milord." The girl stammered, looking down as he stood from his high chair and descended to the bottom of it, coming to a stop just in front of her wooden box. He held out his hands, smiling encouragingly, and she lifted her own shaking hands and let him feel her palms. She trembled the whole time, and his sympathy grew at the sheer terror in her eyes as she looked at him before looking away again.
He gave a soft squeeze to give what little comfort he could before turning around and stepping up the stone steps leading to his chair and sitting down once more, the court silent and watching with what seemed like bated breath. A trial against a well known, influential Baron for charges of rape and misconduct and they treated it like it was a play or show or some other form of entertainment. It was disgusting.
"The girl has callous', and it is clear she has worked hard when it comes to weaving or sewing." Ander declared, turning to meet Aldrick's furious glare with a neutral mask. "Perhaps not to the point she permanently injures herself, but she is no slack weight or layabout."
Aldrick said nothing as the court exploded into murmurs and the atmosphere became more tense and hostile as the courtiers who had been muttering in his favour turned against him. Aldrick may have scared many of them by reputation alone into supporting him, but none of them would dare risk the wrath of a Duke, someone significantly more powerful than Aldrick, to support him.
"That changes nothing, she has no evidence." Aldrick offered in protest. If he had been bothered to hire a lawyer, he very well could have launched some sort of dithering argument over the validity of what Ander claimed, but since Aldrick had chosen to represent himself, either overestimating his own skill or misjudging what sort of person Ander was, he'd chosen to change the subject.
"She does have evidence." Ander retorted, unblinking in the face of Aldrick's growing rage. "Her word. And the worth of her word, according to you, is her worth as a peasant. Have we not just agreed she is indeed a worthy peasant according to Aldrick's own words?
"Aye!" The courtiers cheered, and Ander saw many of the quiet ones speak up now. It looked like he was correct in his earlier sentiments, or perhaps they merely smelled blood from Aldrick's wounded, bleeding hide.
"Very well then." Ander proclaimed, as Aldrick gripped the sides of his box so hard his knuckles turned white. "Then let us hear the girl's testimony. Speak, but speak the truth and nothing but it.
"I will milord." The girl said, voice confident and stronger than before, having sensed the tide turned in favour and having cottoned onto the fact Ander supported her case. "I was walking home from the tavern, I work there as a serving girl to help provide for the family. The Baron increased rents recently and we didn't have enough savings to cover the increase, so my sisters had to put in more work, especially since my father passed away recently. The tavern is not very reputable, so I offered to take the job offered there so my sisters wouldn't have to."
The girl paused for breath, and the crowd of courtiers remained utterly silent. Aldrick fumed, but he seemed consigned to his fate, instead glaring at Ander in what was likely an effort to try intimidating him.
"I...The men can get rowdy when they drink." The girl swallowed nervously. "They can get touchy too, but the bar tender puts them in their place if they go too far. I was still innocent though milord. I know the testaments, I go to church every weekend like the rest of us. I...I was going to wait until I was married, like the priests say, but now..."
The girl broke off into choked sobs as her testimony came to a sudden stop. The courtiers were deathly silent and still, the ones who had earlier muttered in agreement with Aldrick looking guilty as the girl cried and weeped, tears trailing down her cheeks.
Ander stood up, a twisted feeling of sympathy in his stomach that was knotted with a burning rage at Aldrick. He hurried down the dais his high chair sat on and he made his way over to the girl, stopping before her awkwardly, unsure as to what to do.
"We can break if you need time." He offered softly, not sure what else he could do. "This doesn't need to end today."
"It does." The girl said, wiping away her tears, the look of forlorn, complete sadness replaced with one of determined focus. "I want justice. I want him locked away so he doesn't do this to anyone else."
"The punishment for rape is dependant upon the circumstances." Ander offered, before lowering his tone. "But I will do what I can to ensure an outcome you desire. Do you truly just want him locked away?"
The girl's eyes widened, her hands gripping the edge of the box and a look of guilt on her face.
"I want him dead." The girl admitted, voice a whisper. "I feel dead after what he did to me. I might as well be. Who would marry me now?"
"I'll do what I can." Ander said, before pausing. "On both counts."
He ignored the way her eyes widened and ascended to his dais, sitting with a sigh. No wonder his father had been left practically despondent towards the his later days, especially if he had to deal with cases like these frequently and for many years.
"Continue, if you would." He said, and the girl nodded, shifting a little before coughing to clear her throat.
"I was walking home after a late shift at the tavern. It was cold...and wet and...dark. I didn't see him until he was on top of me. I...I couldn't tell who it was, there was no light and...and the pain..." She trailed, off swallowing a choked sob before speaking again. "I found a some jewellery. He must have dropped it when he...when he disrobed. I asked my ma about it and she told me it was the lord's seal."
"Do you have it on you now?" Ander asked, leaning forward quickly. If she had evidence, hard, undeniable evidence...
"I don't." The girl admitted, slightly sheepish. "There was a lot of people outside my house this morning when I left for court, because they knew what was happening and my ma wouldn't let me take it with me because she was scared of pickpockets."
Ander turned to Sergeant Tom, an order in his throat, when someone stepped forward from the crowd of courtiers and spoke.
"I believe the court should adjourn for the day." The courtier exclaimed, and Ander's reprimand was caught in his throat at the sight of an Imperial Eagle, the symbol of the Emperor's house, on the man's clothing. It was Renard, the Imperial Administrator of Albion who formally advised the local Duke and informally kept an eye on them for the Emperor. "My lord, neither side have brought conclusive evidence and there are more petitioners to be sought to. As Imperial Administrator for Albion, I must suggest we hasten the proceedings of the day by delaying this case until the morrow."
"Very well." Ander bit out, wanting nothing more than to protest the man's decision, but he couldn't afford to challenge the man so early into his reign, let alone create an unfriendly relationship with the man who's word could see him ruined. "We will adjourn this case until tomorrow, where both of you will attend, and hopefully with hard proof."
The girl looked horrified and betrayed in equal measure, and a bitter tide of self-loathing welled inside of him. How was he supposed to be a good Duke when he couldn't even look after his subjects and ensure justice for them in moment of crisis?
"Sergeant, I want you and a dozen men to escort that girl home and protect her with your lives." Ander ordered, and Sergeant Tom nodded, a determined glint in his eye.
"I'll bring the best men we have milord." The man promised, heading down the dais towards the girl and leading her away gently. Another guard stepped forward, taking position next to Ander with his spear to call for order when needed.
Baron Aldrick didn't leave the room, instead slinking away into a shadowy corner and glaring at anyone who approached. The man had been invited to a ball Ander's sister was hosting this evening to commemorate the reign of their father, and that invitation still, unfortunately, stood and he was likely to attend, if not just to annoy Ander.
"Bring in the next petitioners." Ander ordered, slumping back into his high chair. It seemed the day was going to be a long one.
....................................................
With petitions blessedly ending shortly after noon, Ander made his way towards his office for a meeting with his chief financial advisor, Roland, who held the keys to the Allard treasury. The man was ancient, and had served the Allard family for three generations now.
"Long day my lord?" Roland inquired, a hint of amusement in the old man's sharp, steel coloured eyes.
"As long as any regarding petitions I imagine." Ander sighed, settling down opposite the man and sifting through the papers scattered across the desk. "How bad are things?"
"Dire." Roland admitted, pointing to a sheet of paper in front of him. "That is how much income we gained through last months revenues."
Ander pondered over the sheet. He imagined the Emperor would gain a significantly heftier sum of money than what his lands had brought in, but it was a respectable amount.
"This, is how much we spent." Roland said, pushing another paper forward. Ander eyed it warily for a moment before perusing over it, eyes widening at the figures.
"How in Gods name-?"
"Borrowing." Roland smiled darkly. "We find ourselves heavily indebted to the Imperial Bank, and the interest rates will destroy us within a decade at most."
"Why did father need so much money?" Ander questioned out loud, and Roland sighed heavily.
"His mistress did not love him for who he was." He answered, a frown settling over his features, mostly hidden behind bushy grey hair. "I fear a significant sum of money was spent on her. Though we need not fear that anymore, not unless you have a mistress of your own?"
"I'm afraid not." Ander replied with a wry grin. "But I will have a wife soon."
"So I've heard." Roland said, leaning back to stroke his mighty beard. "Are the negotiations coming along well?"
"Well enough, Duke Caldrick is eager to form an alliance in return for access to our markets." Ander replied with a shrug. "Thanks to the war we have an excess demand for iron at the moment, so I suspect that's why he's so eager. Not to mention he has the daughters to spare."
"Which one will you be marrying?" Roland asked, grabbing a piece of parchment and scribbling on it.
"Berkhilde." He answered, and Roland stayed silent for a moment, stroking his beard, before he scribbled some more on the parchment. "Roland?"
"Just doing some sums." Roland explained, before sighing and putting the quill he'd been writing with down with a sigh. "It's futile, but I'm hoping to gauge how much might be spent on her behalf. From what I've heard, Berkhilde is not as frivolous as some of her other sisters."
"Which is why I requested her hand." Ander said, pausing for a moment. "But that makes her desirable. I'm up against stiff competition."
"Caldrick is not a very good long term thinker, who supported a continuation of the war after the Battle of Karinga after all." Roland pointed out. "Our higher than usual demand for iron will tempt him more than what most others can offer."
"Regardless, we won't know until she gets here and settles in." Ander said, wanting to get the conversation back on track. "Where can we cut back on expenditure?"
"Your father's mistress for a start." Roland replied. "She owns a number of valuable possessions gifted to her by your father. Chief amongst them is a manor in Medwick. I implemented a legal loophole in the transaction that can allow us to seize them within two years. I recommend we do it now however."
"Agreed." Ander nodded. "As soon as this meeting is over I want that leech thrown to the streets where she belongs. Anything else?"
"We subsidise a number of industries in Medwick." Roland murmured, perusing over the financial reports. "Many of them aren't viable, and are costing us money. However they are owned by friends of your father."
"Powerful?"
"Only through the money we give them. Once that is siphoned off they'll be effectively bankrupt."
"Cut it." Ander said, before smiling at Roland. "You're enjoying this aren't you?"
"I've been waiting three years to do this my lord." Roland admitted with an equally sheepish but conspiring smile. "I tried to convince your father, but I'm afraid he became more stubborn in his later years. May he rest in peace."
"How much expenditure do we need to cut back on?" Ander asked, and Roland sighed.
"If we want to pay back the debt to the Imperial Bank?" He replied, pausing and waiting for Ander to nod in agreement. "Then at least twelve thousand more Telvians. It'll be a struggle, but I think we can manage it."
"With any luck the easier access to iron from Caldrick's lands will help boost manufacturing income." Ander pointed out. "But let's imagine we only have current revenues, no increases or decreases. How long until we are no longer in debt?"
"Three years." Roland admitted. "I hate to say it but the timing of your father's death was good. We can manage to pay off the interest we owe after several months of cutbacks, after that its a case of beating the interest and chipping away at the main debt."
"Are there any areas we can specifically cut back on?" Ander asked. "Things like my father's mistress and whatnot?"
"Nothing so clear cut I'm afraid." Roland answered. "We could increase taxes, but I fear that could spark a rebellion. We barely managed to prevent unrest the last time we did, mostly because we sent the troublemakers as our levy to join the Imperial Army in Lintar."
"If we cut expenditure across the board by ten percent, would that be enough to break even?"
"Barely. I'd recommend twelve percent myself, with fifteen in case we need more for emergency spending."
"Twelve percent it is then." Ander nodded, exhaling slightly. "How badly does that affect us?"
"Minimally." Roland replied. "I've been thinking about this for a long time remember? I've done what I can to prepare us for it, but that isn't going to change the fact some will have a hard time of it. We'll have to completely ban recruit for everything, from guards to servants on our payroll. We aren't likely to advance any further in terms of equipping our levies with good equipment or weapons, and balls like the one your sister is hosting tonight will be rarer."
"Could be worse then." Ander said jokingly, the serious look on Roland's face killing any sense of humour.
"It definitely could be." The old man warned, eyes flickering to the walls for a moment. "I heard the Imperial Administrator interrupted the trial of Baron Aldrick?"
"That's right." Ander sighed. "I know for a fact he's going to try something, so I sent a dozen men to protect the girl whilst she collected her evidence. I could have hosted her at the castle, but Aldrick is here too and I suspect our anti-espionage measures slipped under father's reign."
"Only towards the end of it." Roland retorted. "He was a good Duke when he was younger, but his age made him more complacent. I'm afraid the castle's staff is likely compromised, but to what extent or by whom I don't know."
"We'll find out by the time we reopen recruitment." Ander said determinedly. "Mother will need something to distract her, so I'll put her on the case. God knows she could always sniff me out like a bloodhound when I tried sneaking out after curfew."
"Quite right." Roland laughed, sliding a piece of paper to Ander. He picked it up and read it with a frown.
'Do not speak out loud, but we need to talk in private. I know of a good spot outside the castle. Would you be available tomorrow?'
"Anyway, apart from the Imperial Administrator's interruption the rest of the petitions went by without much issue." Ander said, looking Roland in the eye. "In fact, I was able to say yes to many of them."
"That's good to hear." Roland smiled, shuffling up his papers. "I believe that's everything we needed to discuss."
"Go work your magic Roland." Ander said, smiling at the old man. "If you are in danger or need help, just tell me and I'll do what I can."
"Oh, Ander." Roland smiled, pausing at the door. "With times like these, I'm afraid I'm not the only one in danger."