Chapter 14 : The Lion's Den part 1
Messina 1411
Hertog Van Lyndon had not tasted tension such as that afternoon among his men. Nervous energy buzzed and the air thickened around the six men. A stillness followed the guardians before they turned into nothing but a sharpened axe, as though separating themselves from their emotions.
The Moran had a sense of keeping their emotions to themselves — if they had such things. Had King Maximilian been present, the Moran wouldn't dare breathe. The King's guardians were inconspicuous and those who sensed their presence were in their final moments. However, this was not home and King Maximilian was not present. Yet the Hertog had the nerve to keep King Linnaeus waiting.
Two summons had come and gone, and still he delayed. The Hertog did not dare imagine what would happen if another servant sent by the King returned without them. Despite the little respect that he had for the man, they were outnumbered. What could seven men do to an army? He was not a man who liked tempting fate but he had little choice or control over the situation.
"Grand Master, the servant will be with the King shortly. If we delay much longer, it may have irrevocable consequences."
The words came with hesitation. He was perhaps the only person to dare tell the spymaster to hurry. The spymaster was nothing in comparison to the king but they were all aware that he could have them killed before dusk if he chose and King Maximilian would applaud his swift movements in maintaining order.
Even as the Grand Master stood as stiff as a rod, every instinct in his body wanted to pace the room to remove the tension. He served a king who noticed a click of the tongue or a flinch of the brow. He had not become Grand Master while idling by. It took skill, sweat and blood, his and so much more from others.
He slowly turned around, his eyes washing over the silent guardian who remained in the room with him. It was a passing glance, aware but not engaging, before settling on the guardian with a death wish.
"Is King Linnaeus my king?"
"No, Grand Master."
Threats from the Grand Master silenced rooms whether they came with blood or torment, if not both. When the guardian behind them made a sound, the Grand Master didn't bother breaking eye contact from the one who dared to speak out of turn. The message would be received by all.
"Shall I ask for names?" To ask a Moran for a name was to damn any men in the room. Many had been killed for less. The two guardians measured each other like animals in cage seeing their master with a single bone. One thing was clear: only one can survive.
"The next man to tell me of the cares of a man who is not my king will find themselves stateless." His gaze was searing and took the air out of the room. "Anything else to add?"
Silence followed.
The Grand Master turned towards his desk and the room went dead quiet. The guardian was quiet as a mouse when he left the room. Once certain they were alone, the Grand Master cleared his throat and glanced at the adjoining door. "Let him in."
The guardian moved swiftly but carefully as he opened the door. Another man, dressed like the Moran, entered.
"You are late."
"Let's not waste any more time then," he said, heading for the exit of the Hertog's chambers. He paused and let the Hertog move ahead of him.
When the Grand Master left his chambers, he was surrounded by the seven guardians, collectively called the Moran. Only footsteps could be heard as they moved and the sword clanging at their sides.
Court was in session when they answered King Linnaeus' summons. A lady in a white linen dress, like a goddess out of a book, hung off a harp like a winged beast. Vines came out of the walls over the dais into a beautiful arch above golden throne, a true scene out of Greek mythology. The Noblesse, who were all dressed in white, sat before the king like he was some kind of god.
The Moran, dressed in imperial blue that most said it was to match the Löwenkopf king, were beautiful but out of place. A lion in a running position was stitched with golden threads on their chest - a symbol of the Löwenkopf army, running where there is danger or need. Intricate details of the Löwenkopf history was attached with fine threads on the jacket and cloak.
All of their attire seemed more decorative than equipped them to fight. A black cloth, which was worn like a hat, covered the head and the rest of the face, leaving only the eyes. On top of that was a golden mould that covered the chin, mouth and the sides of their faces. It was uncertain if it had a purpose or merely decorative. With the hood of the cloak over their heads, the Moran were steeped in shadows.
Some even said the peacekeepers were an imitation of the Moran. Where the peacekeepers were passed by, the Moran were a symbol of strength. Despite being out of place, somehow they brought silence to the room.
The lethal seven.
The Noblesse turned their heads to them and watched them with curiosity. Such a sight was written about but not many experienced.
King Linnaeus waved his hand to the harpist and the music died. He took the steps down the dais and stood a few steps above the Grand Master. "Forgive me, for starting the celebrations without you. My noblesse grew impatient."
Hertog let out a small smile. "The fault lies with me."
The King's eyes wandered over the Moran with an inspecting eye as though he could draw them all to measure later. He turned, hands behind his back. "What kept you?"
"Travelling by sea takes its toll on me."
King Linnaeus chuckled. "And how does Maximilian feel about his spymaster having a weak stomach? You won't survive long once he hears the news."
"Hertog," he corrected. "Your majesty seems to be misinformed about my title."
King Linnaeus turned to face him and his noblesse beyond them. "Such Misinformation! It is as though Maximilian were standing before me. You take me back to my youth, Grand Master."
Hertog Von Lyndon ignored the sentiments and the King carried on. "You are in Maximilian's inner circle."
"An advisor."
The King chortled, walking circles around the Hertog and the Moran. He took careful steps past each man taking them in. "Maximilian would not send an advisor across the seas."
"I am but a messenger."
"Everyone knows that Maximilian has four masters who make up his inner counsel: the archbishop, the general, spymaster and the alchemist. Then he lets you destroy but not kill one another to be his Grand Master," he said, pointing upward with his index finger. "The distinction is important to a man like Maximilian."
King Linnaeus was a storyteller and his nobles the whimsical audience absorbing every detail. The two men made eye contact, face to face. "Where there is the King, the Moran will be there also."
"The Moran are the guardians of the King."
The King Linnaeus smirked. "Or the Grand Master's spies, but no one will ever confirm such detail about the most coveted position in Maximilian's court."
The Hertog's eyes followed the King of Messina on his grand stage, stiff and unyielding."My King wants for nothing that he would stoop so low to spy on you. You are wasting time, your majesty. Is there reason to subject us to your delay tactics?"
"How dare you address the High King with such malice?" A Noblesse whirled before the Hertog unlike the others, he wore a golden circlet. "Kneel before the High King."
Tension moved through the room like an unsavoury wind. The Noblesse stood in their chairs, watching with delight as though a hanging happened at least once a day at court, and the Hertog and the Moran were seconds from being an offering.
"I will not, nor will any of my men, bow before your King. I am a Duke boy, insult me again and see if you'll still be alive by sun rise. But dare and insult my King and it will be your King who worries for his life." The Hertog moved his eyes from the Noblesse to King Linnaeus. "I do not care for what you call yourself, repay the debt owed or give us the princess. The choice of payment is dependent on you."
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