Chapter 34: Chapter 34: ‘Granting’ Legitimacy

Rhydian’s predictions had almost come true. When Braydon’s men appeared at Baron Abel’s residence, they came face to face with the man. He was part way through boarding a carriage with far more luggage than a normal trip would need. It caused Braydon to sweat with how close a call it was. Had they been any later, the man could quite easily have fled to Duke Burn to the south. Whilst he was not a particularly aggressive person compared to his factional neighbour, Duke Ryder, that  did not mean that he would not like to expand into the east of Fiveria. This would have given the perfect excuse.

“Baron Abel, where are you going in such a hurry? It should be a joyous occasion, no?” Braydon announced as he and Rhydian came closer to the Baron, who was frozen in shock. Though Braydon thought he might also just be stuck in the carriage door, it would truly be a hilarious reason for the man to have failed to escape in time.

“Ha ha, you must be joking, Viscount Fiton. I was merely going to come to Mapjess to talk with you.” Baron Abel let out a painfully slow and forced laugh, now finally using proper etiquette when talking to Braydon for the first, and probably last, time.  It was clear to him that Braydon’s army should not have come from Grolosar, and it could only mean one thing. He had been played from the start. If Braydon had not taken Mapjess, there was nothing stopping him now. Of course, Baron Abel did not know that this had already happened as well. He had assumed that Braydon had lied about attacking Mapjess and had gone to clean up both his and Baron Walker’s forces.

“You would not have found me there, Abel. I had already finished up at lunch and sent my men to Grolosar.” And with that, the penny dropped, Baron Abel saw that he had well and truly been caught. No counterattack would happen because there was nobody left to counterattack.

“And what of Baron Walker and Baron Monrow?” Baron Abel may be slimy but he was not dumb. If the other two were dead, it meant that Braydon would likely want to take him alive.

“My men are still searching the battlefield to see if Baron Walker is dead or unconscious. Baron Monrow challenged me to a duel, it ended in an unfortunate accident.” Braydon was not one to hold people in suspense, he gave Baron Abel to answer he wanted to know. Of course, he did not think that Baron Abel would prefer to die over becoming a prisoner. And the visible sigh of relief from Abel showed, it was enough for him to unstick himself from the carriage door. ‘So he was only frozen because he was stuck.” Braydon chuckled to himself. Abel was now sat in the carriage and would be escorted back to Cliforge by the mercenaries.

Once they had escorted him back and Gerald came back with the rest of the men, that would be the end of the contract, any remaining money would be paid at Cliforge. He did not want to be sieged down by the very men who had fought for him on the same day due to not fulfilling his duty to pay them.

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Braydon had made it back to Cliforge by late evening, followed by Gerald returning at dusk. The first thing Braydon had asked when he laid eyes on Gerald was ask about the last Baron. He had never seen the man personally but knew from Nela that he was a man who favoured martial prowess and prudence. Hence why he had many smaller conflicts with Baron Abel, the epitome of indulgence, and why he had fewer conflicts with Baron Monrow. The latter had been much more refined than Baron Abel and willing to fight personally even if he was not good at it. It had left Braydon wondering why Baron Abel had managed to persist so long stuck in the middle of the other’s territories. He would never ask Abel himself, the less conversation with the human meatball the better. It was one of those mysteries that he would not find out.  

But there was one thing that they did need from Baron Abel, a written statement signed with his own seal. The best way to legitimate his new conquest was to be designated the heir of the last man with a rightful claim to it. Baron Walker had once had a wife, which would have been trouble if she had not met an untimely end in one of Baron Abel’s skirmishes. And Braydon wondered if there would be anyone even willing to marry Baron Abel in the first place, there would definitely not be any trouble there.

Braydon had called for Nela, she would be dictating exactly what their new ‘guest would write. He trusted that she would not leave any loopholes. Even if that meant forcing the Baron to write repeatedly until she was satisfied. They made their way to the room that had been prepared for Baron Abel. there was no dungeon in his castle, Braydon would not have even considered putting Baron Abel in a room if there was.

 Steven was carrying all of the necessary things for writing the letter, the Baron’s seal had been found in his luggage when it had been searched. Braydon did not want to leave any excuse to claim that this letter was illegitimate. Rhydian and Gerald had also come, in case Baron Abel had decided to attack Braydon and Nela. Or as Gerald had put it, ‘He is so fat that if he decided to attack you, he would squash you before you could find a way to kill him. So we’d be there to get him off.’ What had surprised Braydon was that the usually serious Rhydian had nodded along with Gerald at this point.

When they entered the room Baron Abel looked completely dispirited, like he had been hung out to dry. Though in a sense he had, all that would be left for him was a life of imprisonment. At least he would if Nela’s machinations did not adapt to the situation. 

Steven had set up all the tools to write a letter before him, causing the Baron to look confused. He did not have any allies to bribe, what was the point of writing a letter? The chilling smile he got from Braydon told him that there was still something of value to extract, but he did not know what? Braydon controlled his land and there was nobody to stand up for him.

“Write a letter, addressed to the King. You are going to designate me as your heir.” Braydon’s words made his confused face morph into an expression of hopelessness. The Baron would have to give legitimacy to Braydon’s conquest with his own hand.

“Lady Nela will check what you write. So I advise you write one good letter, rather than twenty deceptive ones.”