Against The World

Lord Garrick Valewood arrived at Greykeep with twenty guards, eight wagons, and the expression of a man determined not to be impressed.

His wife stepped from their carriage, looked at the construction units rebuilding the gatehouse, and immediately asked whether they could carve decorative stone.

That worried me.

Eleanor, who had come to inspect the arriving timber, looked interested.

That worried me more.

Evelyn stood beside me at the foot of the castle steps.

Her fingers brushed mine.

“Breathe,” she whispered.

“I am breathing.”

“You look as though you are preparing to catch another siege stone.”

“I understood the siege stones.”

Her mother approached.

Lady Helena wore a blue traveling gown and carried no visible weapon.

I had been warned that this meant very little.

She embraced Evelyn first.

For several moments, the future queen of Greykeep became a daughter being held by her mother.

Then Helena stepped back and studied her face.

“Oh,” she said softly.

Evelyn’s cheeks colored.

“Mother.”

“I have said nothing.”

“You said ‘oh.’”

“It is a versatile word.”

Lord Garrick joined them.

He embraced Evelyn more briefly, although one broad hand remained on her shoulder after he released her.

“You look well.”

“I am.”

His gaze moved toward me.

“Your Majesty.”

“Lord Valewood.”

We shook hands.

His grip was firm.

Mine remained attached.

A promising beginning.

“My daughter’s letters have become considerably less formal,” he said.

Evelyn closed her eyes.

“Father.”

“One began with six paragraphs about your relief channel.”

“It was important.”

“Then she mentioned that you had kissed her.”

“Father.”

I became aware of several guards discovering interesting things to look at.

Helena smiled.

“We are pleased to meet you properly, Uriah.”

“Likewise.”

I paused.

“Mostly.”

Garrick stared at me.

Then, unexpectedly, he laughed.

It was brief, but Evelyn’s shoulders relaxed.

“Good,” he said. “At least you know when you are in danger.”

We used the new receiving room.

Its table had finally been made smaller.

The construction unit responsible had appeared indifferent to the correction. Aldren had been less forgiving of the original measurements.

Mary placed a stack of documents beside each chair.

Melody inspected the windows.

Alistair stood near the fireplace until I pointed at an empty seat.

He sat.

Helena examined the room, taking in the repaired plaster, the fresh window frames, and the workers visible beyond the courtyard.

“You have accomplished a great deal.”

“A great many people have,” I said.

“And a great deal remains,” Garrick added.

“Yes.”

He seemed to appreciate that answer.

Evelyn sat beside me.

Helena noticed.

Of course she did.

“We should begin,” Mary said, “by separating the marriage arrangements from the agreement between Greykeep and Valewood.”

Garrick opened his document case.

“They are naturally connected.”

“They affect one another,” Mary replied. “They should still be recorded separately.”

He looked at her.

Mary’s cat ears remained upright.

“The grain deliveries are an agreement between two administrations. They cannot become a debt owed to the bride.”

I leaned forward.

“Agreed.”

Evelyn nodded.

Helena settled back in her chair.

“An excellent beginning.”

Garrick studied Mary for a moment.

Then he placed two folders on the table instead of one.

“Very well.”

The territorial agreement took most of the morning.

We confirmed the boundaries discussed in Evelyn’s report, protected existing village rights, and established a process for hearing petitions without requiring farmers to travel to Greykeep simply to complain about a road or a tax collector.

Trade access remained open rather than exclusive.

The northern transit route would be surveyed before anyone promised regular use.

Mary insisted on that wording.

The Castellan had not yet confirmed the condition of its far end.

By midday, Garrick had stopped asking whether I understood a clause and begun asking what I wanted changed.

That felt like progress.

Then Helena opened a third folder.

It was much thicker.

“The wedding.”

I looked at it.

“Why is that larger than the treaty?”

“Because the treaty does not require flowers.”

Melody pulled her chair closer.

Mary sighed.

Before discussing guest lists, Garrick asked to speak with Evelyn and me alone.

Helena stayed.

Apparently “alone” had a flexible meaning in the Valewood family.

Mary gathered the treaty papers and withdrew with the others.

The door closed.

Garrick folded his hands.

“Do you wish to marry my daughter?”

“Yes.”

“Not simply crown her because she has made herself useful?”

Evelyn started to speak.

Her mother touched her wrist.

I answered.

“She was useful before I knew I wanted to marry her. They are different things.”

Garrick waited.

“She makes difficult days easier. I trust her judgment. I like hearing what she thinks, even when it means changing my mind.”

“That will happen often.”

“I have noticed.”

Evelyn smiled faintly.

I took her hand.

“And when something good happens, she is the person I want to tell.”

Garrick looked down at our joined hands.

For a moment, his stern expression shifted.

Then he turned to his daughter.

“Evelyn?”

“I want to marry him.”

“You understand what staying here means?”

“I have been here.”

“You have been helping a recovering settlement. Becoming its queen will be different.”

“I know.”

“You will be watched. Criticized. Blamed for decisions you did not make.”

Her voice remained steady.

“Then I intend to make enough decisions of my own that people know where to direct their complaints.”

Helena laughed quietly.

Garrick looked at his wife.

“She gets that from you.”

“Yes.”

He returned his attention to me.

“I cannot expect you to keep every danger away from her.”

I said nothing.

That had been exactly what I wanted to promise.

“Do not make that promise,” he continued, as though he had heard the thought. “You would fail, and she would resent being kept somewhere safe while everyone else did the work.”

Evelyn squeezed my hand.

“But I expect honesty,” Garrick said. “And I expect you to remember that she is my daughter before she is an alliance.”

“I will.”

His gaze held mine.

Then he nodded.

“You have our blessing.”

Beside me, Evelyn let out a breath.

Helena stood and embraced her.

Garrick rose more slowly.

When he offered his hand again, the handshake felt different.

Less like an examination.

More like a beginning.

The message from Westmere arrived before lunch.

Captain Edric requested instructions concerning Harwick.

The former lord had refused three attempts to take a formal statement. He continued signing letters as Lord of Westmere and had tried to persuade two guards to carry an appeal to neighboring rulers.

One guard had reported him.

The other had accepted the letter and delivered it to Edric.

I liked that guard.

Mary read the report aloud.

“He claims his imprisonment is unlawful because no formal judgment has been entered against him.”

Garrick frowned.

“He ordered the flooding of his own citadel.”

“Yes,” Mary said. “And we need that established in the record.”

“I was there,” I said.

“So was I.”

She closed the report.

“We are witnesses, Uriah. That matters.”

Evelyn looked at me.

“If you judge him alone, every lord who fears Greykeep will call it revenge.”

“And if we ignore him,” Alistair said, “they will call it uncertainty.”

I leaned back.

“I would prefer a third option.”

Mary slid another document toward me.

She had already prepared one.

A hearing under the old stewardship charter.

Charges presented openly.

Witnesses questioned.

Harwick allowed to answer and to choose someone to speak on his behalf.

The council would appoint a panel from people who had not taken part in the fighting. A magistrate from the newly arrived residents could lead it, with qualified representatives from Greykeep and Westmere.

Garrick read the proposal.

“You would allow him to challenge the evidence?”

“Yes,” I said.

“He will use the hearing to insult you.”

“He has been doing plenty of that without one.”

Melody smiled.

“He has had practice.”

Evelyn rested a hand on the document.

“Let him answer for what he did.”

We sent the arrangements to Westmere that afternoon.

Harwick’s case would be heard before the wedding.

I did not want our marriage celebrations taking place while families waited to learn whether the man who had imprisoned them would simply buy his way out.

Harwick entered Greykeep six days later through the transit gate.

He wore plain clothes and guarded his dignity more carefully than his hands, which were bound.

His first sight of the restored chamber stopped him.

His second was Alistair.

“Enjoying yourself?” Harwick asked.

“No,” Alistair said.

That answer seemed to trouble him more than a threat would have.

The hearing occupied two days.

I attended as a witness.

Sitting below the magistrate’s table felt strange.

I knew it was necessary to show the courts objective nature.

Still Strange.

Harwick had chosen a former estate advocate to speak for him. The man tried to argue that the imprisonments were emergency measures and that the flood mechanism had been activated against an invading force.

Then Captain Edric described the servants still below.

Peter showed the injury that had left him unable to walk when we opened his cell.

Thomas testified about the sealed passage and the orders concerning the Crown.

The mage who had served Harwick admitted opening the reservoir gates.

His own conduct would be judged separately.

Mary presented the tax ledgers, the grain orders, and the certified stewardship documents. The farmers from Lowfield described what had been burned and what they had been forced to surrender.

Harwick listened with growing anger.

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