Reign of Madness (Revised Edition) (28 page)

“And, this has to be done publicly?” Tam inquired. It would
be difficult to apologize to Rezkin publicly without revealing any of the
warrior’s secrets.

“No, not necessarily,” the lord replied. “Unless the
offended party insists, the matter can be resolved privately, especially if the
offense is of a sensitive nature.”

“Thank you, Lord Malcius. You have been most helpful,” Tam
stated with genuine appreciation. He still did not have a plan, but at least he
had somewhere to start and an understanding of the protocols Rezkin would
recognize – he hoped. Rezkin’s upbringing was so unusual he was not sure
what the man would really appreciate.

Satisfied that he had fulfilled his responsibility both as a
noble and a friend, Malcius headed to breakfast. It had not been so terrible
speaking with the commoner after all. He had never considered the difference in
social structure between the nobles and commoners. To be honest, he had never
considered commoners much at all. Tamarin had been surprisingly insightful when
it came to their mutual friend, Rezkin. The warrior had mentioned being raised
beneath a brutal training regimen. Now, Malcius realized that the training must
have taken precedent over everything else, and Rezkin’s social life had
suffered. His typical sociable and affable countenance seemed incongruous with
the revelation, but perhaps it was just Rezkin’s natural personality.

Malcius pondered which of the lords might be so eccentric as
to raise his son in such a manner. He could surely be no lower than a count,
but Rezkin’s attitude and bearing implied something higher. It could be a
marquis or duke, perhaps, or an offshoot of the royal family? Even if the House
were not landed, Rezkin would still maintain a decent amount of power if he
were in the line of succession. Malcius tried to picture any family
resemblances in his mind, but Rezkin just seemed like an average man, no
particular features standing out from the others. Something about that thought
gave Malcius pause, but a moment later he could not recall the concern.

Sitting down at the breakfast table, Malcius greeted the
other nobles. Once the meal was served, Malcius politely opened a conversation
with the older baron to whom he had spoken little thus far. “Lord Nasque, how
goes the barony? Things are well, I hope.” Malcius noticed Rezkin’s arrival
just as the baron began his reply.

The baron cleared his throat and glanced around at the young
heirs. “Well, Lord Malcius, I suppose that depends on whether you would like an
honest answer or a politically
correct
one. It is not exactly proper for
a baron to air such problems openly, but neither would it do the kingdom any
good to conceal the truth until it is too late to remedy.”

Malcius and Tieran both paused with a frown. Tieran said,
“Is the situation so terrible, then?”

“Not so terrible yet, but certainly difficult and draining.
In a few months time, though, I expect we will begin to see the consequences of
yesterday’s actions, so to speak,” Lord Nasque replied.

“Really?” Malcius asked with surprise. “I had not heard
there were any serious problems.”

Tieran grunted and said, “Your father has done you a
disservice if he has kept such knowledge from you. Truly, he should be training
you to take his place in the event something happens to him.”

 “Well, what is it? What have I missed?” Malcius
inquired. In truth, Malcius had never really thought about kingdom business. It
was not that he did not
care
. He simply kept busy with other things that
were more important to him.

“The king has been passing laws these past two years,”
Tieran said.

“Of course he has. He is the king. It is what kings do,”
Malcius retorted.

“Not like this. These laws are designed to destabilize the
nobility, or so I have heard,” Tieran said quietly as though some spy might
capture the knowledge and run back to the king. “Many of the laws have been
passed without even consulting the Council, and the ones that do…well, it is
dangerous to speak of the reasons those laws have been passed.”

Palis interjected in a hushed whisper that everyone could
hear regardless. “I heard the king has been sending his
dark
tidings
to the Houses to ensure the Council votes in his favor.”

Malcius looked at his brother askance and said, “What do
you
know of it, and why did you not tell
me
?”

The older baron interrupted. “It is not something of which
any
of you should be speaking. Regardless, the consequences are clear. The Council
has less power, and the nobles have less influence in court. Kingdom taxes have
risen to the extreme so that I have had to raise the taxes of my subjects three
times in as many months. As a result, commerce has suffered because fewer
people have money to spend.

The baron shook his head in frustration and disgust. “The
common people are getting poorer, which means fewer are able to pay their
taxes. The law dictates that those unable to pay must be imprisoned for their
debts and their possessions seized in payment. Most of them have little of any
value to begin with, and now their families will be without home and income. As
the prisons fill, it means higher expenses to keep the prisoners fed and pay
the guards, and fewer people are working to produce the goods and services we
need. In turn, this means fewer taxes paid. You see? The balance of the system
as been tipped and everything is sliding into the muck.”

Tieran nodded and glanced at the baron uncomfortably before
he said, “It is true. Already the Council has issued warnings that they are
considering stripping a few of the barons of their titles because they cannot
keep up with the taxes.”

Lord Nasque bobbed his head in agreement and replied, “Yes,
but fortunately for me, the lumber industry has been fairly lucrative,
especially with the king building up his navy. I believe he expects a dozen
more ships to be completed by the end of the year and has already submitted a
proposal to the Council for next year’s lot. No, the taxes have been a hardship
but not unmanageable for me. What causes me difficulty is the order for
men
.
The king demands more men for his muster each month. Already I have lost half
my guard, the remaining guard is insufficient to patrol against the increasing
number of bandits. When people can no longer afford to purchase what they need,
they turn to thievery.”

“Yes, we heard about our cousin’s terrible encounters with
the scoundrels on her way to Kaibain. I cannot believe the army has done so
little to stop them,” Malcius remarked.

“What can be done?” questioned the baron. “They can kill
bandits today, but there will be more tomorrow when another family loses its
home and has no income. As far as the muster, I have sent out recruiters for
several months, but fewer respond. The men are needed for logging. Without
them, the king cannot have his ships. The Council does not recognize this,
though, and continue to demand more men. I am afraid a draft is imminent, and
you know the people will be angry. When they take my loggers, how shall I pay
the king’s taxes? How will the shipwrights get their lumber?”

“I had no idea anything of the sort was happening,” Malcius
exclaimed.

“Do you pay attention to nothing?” Palis scoffed. It was
true. Malcius rarely took note of anything that did not directly relate to
him
unless his father or tutors specifically assigned him the task. Malcius was
suddenly ashamed that he had been more concerned with the quality of silk in
his doublet than with the workings of the kingdom.

“Well, what is the solution?” Malcius inquired.

The baron shook his head and said, “There is no solution
unless the king suddenly comes to a change of heart.”

“But, what of the nobles’ responsibility to their people?
What of the
king’s
responsibility?” Malcius protested.

“It is truly a noble sentiment, Lord Malcius, but an unpopular
one in today’s court,” the baron stated. “It is best you keep any ideas of
solutions to yourself.”

“I am sure Rezkin would know a proper solution,” Malcius
grumbled.

“Why do we not ask him, then?” Tieran proffered. “Rezkin!”
he called across the small space to the other table. “What say you about a
solution to the kingdom’s current economic problems?”

Rezkin had been listening to the nobles’ conversation. The
discourse at his own table was subdued due to his current predicament with Tam,
so picking up the softly spoken words was not difficult. Still, he raised a
brow and donned a look of questioning surprise to the unexpected inquiry.
“Well, I can think of only one solution, and it is not one most would speak
aloud. Such talk might lead to accusations of treason and the sensitive subject
of rebels.”

“I have heard whispers of rebels,” Malcius remarked.

“At least you heard
something
,” Palis grumbled.

“Is this the source of their discontent?” Malcius inquired.
“What do they hope to gain?”

“It is, although Caydean forbids any mention of the rebels
outside of efforts to stop them,” the striker remarked. “It is assumed they
intend to put pressure on the king to change the laws or perhaps even supplant
him altogether.”

Malcius’s eyes widened as he exclaimed, “With
whom
?
Prince Thresson?”

The striker shrugged. “Perhaps. Who knows? I am not even
certain
they
know, especially with the prince missing. That is the
problem with rebellions and why they rarely succeed. They require a strong
leader and a figurehead. They do not have to be one and the same. Without
these, they lack organization, direction, and inspiration.”

“Do the rebels have that?” the young lord asked.

“They seem to have a decent leader, strong enough to gather
support and keep it organized, at least,” Kai remarked. “As far as I know, they
lack a figurehead. If they are to be effective, they need someone behind whom
they can rally. They need a
name
to wash over the land that inspires
hope in people’s souls and strikes fear into the heart of their enemy. People
are more likely to support a cause if they believe it will succeed.”

“Who could serve as such a man? Who could inspire people to
turn against their king?” Malcius asked.

“You ask dangerous questions, Lord Malcius,” the baron
chided.

“Ignorance serves no one,” the striker countered. Lord
Nasque was uncomfortable but nodded in acquiescence to the striker.

“Let us consider it a lesson in history, then, if you
prefer,” the striker offered. “King Coroleus’s heirs have held the throne for
over a thousand years. Since the founding of the Kingdom of Ashai, all
rebellions have failed except one. A little over six hundred years ago, the
reigning king went mad. You
have
heard mention of the
Mad King
,
yes? There is a popular children’s rhyme about him,” the striker mused as heads
bobbed all around.

“Anyway, the Mad King seized power from the Council, taxed
his people into destitution and incited war with his neighbors. It is said he
even killed his own sister and mother because he feared they would bear heirs to
replace him. In fact, he caused so much strife and destruction that, with his
passing, his name was stricken from the record. His own cousin led the
rebellion against him and assumed the throne upon the Mad King’s death.”

Everyone understood the implication. King Caydean’s actions
did not seem so far removed from what the Mad King had done.

“Is that historical fact or mere scholarly conjecture?”
Tieran asked curiously.

“The king’s name was Golial, and he lived from the year 602
to 637 when his cousin, Duke Oerand, assumed the throne,” Rezkin’s deep voice
intoned.

“I thought his name had been stricken from the record,”
Tieran remarked with a slight upward turn to his lips. He was pleased to hear
Rezkin contribute to the conversation with his usual uncanny historical
knowledge.

Rezkin shrugged and said, “Not all of them. Just the ones in
Ashai, and even then it was only those that could be found. It is very
difficult to completely destroy information once it is known publicly. Removing
an infamous king’s name is virtually impossible.”

Kai looked at Rezkin askance before continuing, “Every
kingdom has seen its share of rebellions, though. Channería, Sandea, Jerea,
Torrel – all of them. One thing that nearly all of the successful ones
had in common was that they supported another with a rightful claim to the
throne. Even the formation of the provinces that eventually became the Kingdom
of Ashai was preempted by such a rebellion.

“The original settlers of this land were refugees from the
east before even the Kingdom of Channería existed. There was a kingdom called…”
Kai paused in thought.

“Gorsht,” Rezkin prompted.

“Right, Gorsht,” the striker said with another odd glance at
the warrior. “The king of Gorsht did not favor his own son for the throne. He
felt that his nephew would make a better king for whatever reason, so he named
the nephew his heir.”

“A king can do that?” Malcius blurted.

“In Gorsht, the king had the right to name his own
successor. The law was carried over into our own kingdom’s charter. It is a law
that cannot be removed or changed by any subsequent king. But in Gorsht, upon
the king’s death, the son claimed the throne for his own and ordered the
execution of his cousin. The cousin escaped execution and later returned with
an army of his own. War ensued, the nobles were torn between the opposing
sides, and Gorsht was ripped apart. The usurper and the rightful king both fell
in the final battle, and the kingdom of Gorsht was no more. The central
government was completely obliterated.”

“The king should have recognized that his son would not give
up the throne willingly,” Tieran remarked.