The Pendulum's Scar

3. The Duke's Oath

While most citizens of Calkus claim to be religious, there are few religious ceremonies that take place on a regular basis. There are no official churches or priests who spread the word of the Five-Faced God. Despite this, the tenets of the Five-Faced God, spread by oral tradition, form the basis of social norms and law in Calkus.

Extract from Calkus Religion by Ivus Selenas

Duke Cilirus sweated profusely as he sat at his desk. He wanted to wipe his brow but did not wish to bring any more attention to the undignified droplets that hung there, threatening to plunge down his face at the slightest movement. It was just too damn warm; the early summer sun beat down relentlessly through the solarium's gigantic glass ceiling panels. I don't know why she insisted on the Solarium anyway, he thought. We're in the Hinterlands, not the Royal blasted City.

"Duke Cilirus?" the envoy repeated patiently. He had a look of concern on his face. Perhaps he had noticed the sweat.

"Yes, yes," Cilirus waved his hand dismissively. "You'll have your money. My merchant friends from Narcys will be visiting in a few weeks and I imagine my investments will have paid off handsomely."

"Excellent," the envoy smiled and leaned back in his chair. Mention Narcys and they call off the attack immediately, the Duke thought, smiling to himself. His annoyance at the warmth killed his mirth quickly however. How was the damn diplomat managing to stay cool under his dark robes? Not a hair was out of place.

"Is there anything else?" Cilirus struggled to keep his voice level.

"Nothing. My master only wishes that you keep us foremost in your thoughts as soon as your investments mature." The envoy rose to his feet, pushed his chair towards the desk and bowed, all in one smooth motion. "Thank you for your hospitality, sir." The Duke nodded and rang a bell. A few seconds later, his servant arrived to escort the envoy from the building. Once they had left the room, the Duke wiped the sweat from his brow, but it brought him little relief. How the hell am I going to pay these debtors? he thought. The price I pay for normality. As soon as he heard the front door slam, Duke Cilirus filled his glass with the remnants of his last bottle of Numerian Brandy. After draining the glass in one gulp, he rang the bell again. The grey-haired servant arrived with his hands held behind his back. He raised an eyebrow at the empty brandy bottle.

"What can I do for you sir?"

"Oh, less of the attitude Bryn." Cilirus sighed. "I could use a drink. My dear Duchess' financial legacy continues to haunt me. Find something incredibly alcoholic for us."

"Right away," Bryn said with a smile.

The Duke awoke to a thunderous hammering. He was slumped over his desk, his face sticky with dried patches of Earthfire Whisky. He realised it was daytime; one could not hide from such facts in the Solarium. Somebody was at the door.

"Bryn!" he croaked, intending to buy himself enough time to splash some water on his face.

"Bryn?" the only reply was a long, meandering snore.

"Good for nothing servant," the Duke grumbled, rising unsteadily to his feet. "I might as well serve myself." Cilirus ambled over to the sleeping manservant and loomed over him.

"Bryn!" he screamed directly into his face.

"Whussat?" he moaned, waking with a start. "Morning already? Why haven't you answered the door?"

"Go and do your job, Bryn," he sighed. "Seat our guest and bring them a drink. In the lounge, this place is still too... sticky. I need time to make myself presentable." He did not wait for Bryn's reply, and disappeared into his chambers to prepare.