Lerran was below his office, in the mansion’s dining hall, when he got word. They were serving him a fruit salad, with a topping of sesame seeds and pecans. For meat, he was offered a platter of cold cut pork, well-seasoned, and for drink, white wine. Tass had joined him, and Eseveer sat with one of her friends nearby. It was not a formal dinner, just a lunch break from their work. Lerran’s wife worked with the property care staff, both overseeing their labours and getting involved with the gardens of their estate.
“Gadra has returned,” Isar said, striding in from the door. His arm had finished healing and he marched in his normal uniform. “She’s just approaching the gate, I’ve been told.”
“Very good,” Lerran said. “Show her in here, when she’s ready.” She had been gone to Lo Mallago for a full moon, without word. Hopefully, everything had gone well. Lerran also wished that she was settling into her new role, not protesting it still. Eseveer and Yarua did not complain as much as the others. Lerran missed Ren.
Lerran finished his meal and washed it down with the wine. He looked at one of their servants, and his cup was refilled. “How is your meal?”
“It was good,” she said. “I was going to go into town, later. I’d like to buy some more vine seeds, to finish the decoration on the back of the manor.” She took a drink of her wine. They both drank from expensive wine glasses, imported from the western empire of Numa’nakres, where all the world’s glass was made.
“Of course,” Lerran said.
The door opposite their table opened and Gadra stepped in. She was wearing plain clothes, and had a knife on each hip. She set down a heavy pack as soon as she got in the door, sighed, and then walked into the room with a white page clutched in one hand. “Brother!” she called. “I’ve returned.”
Lerran grinned. “Welcome home, Gadra! How was your trip?”
She rolled her eyes as she approached. The legs of a wooden chair moaned as she dragged it to a position across the table from Lerran. She sat down, pointed at his glass and looked at a servant, and then looked back at Lerran. “It was long,” she said. “The Barren Road was hot. I’m sore. How was your trip? I hear you went all the way to the top of the government!”
“Yeah, things were a touch chaotic in your absence,” Lerran confessed, smiling.
“They’re saying, on the roads, that you did it,” Gadra said. “Killed all the Lord Employers and took over the city.”
“Definitely not the case,” Lerran said. “I was at the Green Eye the whole time, until Isar convinced me we needed to see what was afoot in Worker’s Rise. I’ve still got the man who did it downstairs. Ask Isar.”
The guard captain bowed again, and Gadra nodded to him. Her wine had been served, so she lifted a matching glass cup. “Well, to your safety, Master of Sheld.”
“It’s Prince,” Tass said, with a wink. She raised her glass.
Lerran laughed. Chuckling still, he raised his own cup in agreement. “To my safety then,” he said. They all drank.
After they returned their cups to the wooden table, Gadra asked for something to eat, and a servant ran to the kitchens to fetch it. While she waited, Lerran’s sister looked at him, and said, “Well, the Rebel King and myself are fast friends now. He’ll be writing me monthly for advice. There’s still dissidence in some of Lo Mallago’s factions, and the city is still half a ruin. But we own it, I suppose. Two cities, one Family.”
“What of Father’s influence there?” Lerran asked.
“A letter from our dear father was delivered there,” Gadra said. “But he was never seen, and the Rebel King did not feel charitable enough to reply. Gharo asks for safe haven, but he will not get any in his sport city.”
“Good,” Lerran said. “Is that the letter there?” He held out his hand for the parchment she’d carried with her.
Gadra scooped it up from the tabletop. “No,” she said, giving it to him. “Just a letter that came for you at the same time I did. It has a plain, grey seal… is it the Temple?”
Lerran opened the letter at once, breaking the wax in half. He looked it over quietly:
To the Family of Lerran; for many years your Father’s family has been a blemish across the Grey Sea, spearheading the sins of mankind between slavery, drugs, and killings. Within the past few months, and under your new leadership, your crimes have increased twofold—the deaths of your government are on your hands. Your sins may lead to further punishment from Atmos, as the tear that fell from the heavens fourteen hundred years ago. It is not fair or right that your faults harm the innocent citizens of Sheld. Your Family must leave Sheld within the next three Moons, or face the retribution of the Sky God. –The High Priest of Atmos.
A long, drawn out sign left Lerran’s lips and he dropped the letter back to the table top in frustration.
“What is it?” Tass asked, grabbing the letter.
“Read it for us,” Lerran said, with a groan. He took a drink of his wine again. Tass had a higher voice than Gadra, and she made the letter sound like poetry, but stifled laughter a few times throughout.
Gadra sighed, like Lerran did. “Got a religious nut targeting you too… Do you think the High Priest actually wrote that, or just the Priest here in Sheld?”
“Probably the local Priest,” Lerran said, “But he wouldn’t be acting alone, not in this matter.”
“What are you going to do about it?” Tass asked.
Lerran rubbed his eyelids with his fingers. “Sleep on it. Drink on it. I mean… we’re not going to leave Sheld. I know that much with certainty. This will always be our home.” He finished off his wine and stood up. He didn’t even take that idiotic letter with him.