Duke Gavril gaped openly at the retreating corps, until Dal muttered, “Shut hyu mout’ before de birds schtart nestin’ in it.”
He closed his mouth with a click, “Ah, yessir.”
There was just a patrol of Jägermonsters left on guard, and Dafi noticed most of them were also wearing mourning bands, as was Dal. A few nodded and smiled at her, and she was teased with a dim memory of some of them standing at the back of the chapel. She nodded back as the baron addressed the duke.
“So, Gavril Stephan Imrich Petru Ierboase, Grand Duke of Moviloraş... what are we going to do with you?” Baron Wulfenbach frowned thunderously at the young duke.
“Erm... bust me down to mudlark?” he asked, hopefully. His friends moved closer, as if to protect him.
“Oh, no, no, no,” he chuckled, darkly, “you are not getting out so easy as that.” Baron Wulfenbach leaned back in his chair. “What say you, Locotenent?”
Dal crossed his arms, and frowned, “He’s got lotz ov vork to do, from vot Hy been zeeink in Movila.”
“Colonel?”
“I agree, and unless there is evidence that implicates him as more than just a convenient blind for those who engineered the attack on the fortress,” Dafi paused, to control the growl that had crept into her voice, “Much better to keep him in his position, and taking care of his responsibilities.” Dafi nodded, noting relief in some of the faces behind the duke. These were the half-dozen people relegated to the back rows before the conspirators and their compatriots were removed.
“Yes, quite.” The Baron snorted, and leaned forward, with his elbows on the desk. “You have been observed, Gavril. Not just for your inability to say ‘no’ to a card game, but also in the matters of finance.”
Gavril sighed, “I know, and spending good money after bad at the tables to try to clear my debts was the first of many major mistakes,” he shook his head. “I had started seeing, over the last year or so, what the advice I was getting from them was doing to the duchy. Even so, by then they had insinuated themselves in the works, and I could not find a way out.”
“You could have asked for help,” Dafi noticed that the young man who spoke was wearing the badge of the Pfaltzboier for the judeţe of Dolj. “I would have...”
“No, Nicul - I did not want to be the cause of you getting hurt again, not if I can help it. My keeping you near me nearly got you killed. If anything permanent had happened to you, I would not have been able to continue.”
Gavril’s expression was familiar to Dafi, because she had been wearing a similar one until the rules had changed.
She turned to the baron, with a raised eyebrow and an open hand. He nodded slightly, but held his hand palm down. So she waited.
Dalibor, however, sighed and crossed his arms, “How moch hyu owe dem, boyo?”
“By my last accounting, nearly two hundred thousand lei.” A shocked silence followed - even giving over his entire yearly household budget for the next twenty years to the creditors would not pay them off. Dafi scanned the loyal few left, and most were as shocked as she was, save for the old woman in the very back row. Her sorrow was palpable even at this distance. Duke Gavril continued, his voice heavy with regret. “Yes, I know - the interest is killing me. I have sold off what is solely mine, which to be honest, was not much. I cannot in good conscience take funds from the running of the duchy to pay the rest.”
“At leas hyu got some ov de answers right.” Dal glanced briefly at the baron before addressing the duke as if he was a young boy who had been caught tormenting a younger sibling. “Hyu know de duchy iz grinding de vorkers, ja?”
“Some of it. Those three tried to keep me from seeing it, when I objected, but I was still able to get some reports in,” Gav smiled briefly at Nicul, then sobered. “I have not been so successful in halting their military spending, and I am not sure even now how many mercenaries have been hired in my name without my consent. Then there are the reports of what I set as the tax rate has been doubled, and even tripled in some remote areas where they thought I would not find out, by their agents when it came time to collect, but only a quarter of the originally projected revenue has ever reached the duchy coffers.” He reached into his jacket, bringing out a small sheaf of papers. “I had hoped to drop this with someone, as my last messenger went missing a month ago.” He presented the papers to the Baron.
Baron Wulfenbach quickly scanned the ledgers with a raised eyebrow, and nodded, handing the papers to Herr Dolokhov. “You do know how this came to pass. Now, what would you plan for the future?”
“First thing I have already done, which was swearing off cards, even ‘friendly’ games with no stakes involved,” Gavril said. “Next, is releasing the unnecessary mercenaries hired in my name when the contracts for the registered companies expire. I do not know what I will be able to do to get the unregistered groups out of Movila without causing harm.” The young man’s gaze turned inward, his expression growing thoughtful. “Reversing the agricultural orders will take a season, but at least it is an order the farmers would likely be happy to get, especially with the taxes being returned to what I had originally set. There are a number of laws that need to be reviewed, only I had thought maybe we could get a representative council together, with the towns sending their questions and suggestions.” He ground to a halt, before muttering, “I have to fix a lot of things.”
He jerked upright when Dalibor clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Hy dun got no two honnert thousandt, but Hy kin help some. Who holds de notes on de debt?”
“The Rue Garreau Apaches held the first note, Campionato Testarossa was the group brought in by Evanier, and then...” Gav shrugged, helplessly.
A young man wearing the colors for Prahova interjected, “I managed to pay off the Normandie Rookery, but there are some I looked into - quite a few, actually - that might just be jumping on the bandwagon, as the notes they hold were not signed by Gav, nor any of his approved representatives.” He bowed slightly.
“Pfaltzboier Michal? Investigating?” the baron chuckled, “That is dangerously close to actual labor, something I recall you having issue with when you were here as a student.”
The young man chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, “Yes, well - it was for a friend.”
“Thank you, Michal. You really did not have to do that.” Gav was coloring up a bit, but kept his carriage upright.
“As I said, for a friend.” Michal nodded his head to the baron, “I did not bring my notes to the meeting, but I do have them aboard. Once we get things organized here, what is our next step?”
“As much as I would like to say the next task is to escort the bride-elect home, and helping her with a vermin problem, I would hope there can be something more done about my... soon-to-be-cousin’s situation.” Dafi said. She refrained from glaring meaningfully at Baron Wulfenbach, but she did raise an eyebrow. Really, there was a good deal more that they could handle right here and now, and unless they were right over the fortress, they had time for negotiations.
The baron raised an eyebrow in return, while the corner of his mouth twitched, as if suppressing a smile.“I agree. There is more that can be done here, I think.”
Gav frowned, “Even if half the debt is manufactured, I need a way to pay it, and stay alive while doing so.”
“Ho, ist der guyz hyu owe money to skeerier den Jägermonstern?” Dal chuckled.
“No, but if I cannot guarantee the safety of those around me, what good is being related... unless...” Gav turned to Dalibor, “Do you have any heirs?”
Dal grinned hugely, “Nut yet.” Then he sobered, “Hyu nut lookink to abdicate, ne?” The growl in his voice gave indication of what he thought of that idea.
“No, but I thought, if I named an heir that had the entire Jägercorps as godfathers, they would be safer.” Gav shrugged.
“Dot ist... mebbe a goot idea.” He looked at Dafi. “How menny kids ist ve gonna have, Dafi?”
In her surprise, Dafi answered truthfully, “I - had not thought that far, but we could plan on at least trying to have a few.” She shook her finger at both of them, “However, I want to wait to see which ones are suited to the specific tasks before we designate positions.”
“Oh, yes, yes - just make sure the next head of the House of Movila is smarter than me, please?” Gav laughed shakily. “Duke or duchess, as long as they can avoid the mistakes I made!”
“Pfft, hyu did hokay ontil de parasites got to hyu. Ve kin visit so de kinder see vot dhey might be in for, ja?” Dal grinned again, looking to the baron, “Zo, ve kin zee who owes vat, und den get de repayment skedule?”
“A reasonable compromise,” the baron said. “If you are specifically requesting a formal audit, there will be some things we can negotiate.” He held out his hand for a document, and Herr Dolokhov took it from the folder he had brought - while taking notes on the discussion with his other pair of hands. The baron scanned it, and placed it on the desk before him. “Review this request, and see if it suits the situation.”
“All right...” as the duke reached to retrieve the document from the master of ceremonies, he began to sway, and Dal pushed him down into a chair. Gav passed the document to Nicul, “Please, could you...?”
“You skipped breakfast again,” the one called Nicul muttered as he sat next to the duke, but he did not attempt to hide his scolding attitude as he read through the paperwork.
Gavril chuckled weakly, “I have not had much of an appetite, lately.”
“Yes, well - wasting away is all very romantic and glamorous, I am sure. But you cannot afford to lose more strength.” Nicul’s chiding had a worried undertone to it. He reviewed the papers, nodding. “It is a solid request, and though it does give his accountants a free hand to delve into everything attached to the treasury, it is only for five years. It might be enough time to repair the damage, if the reports we received are correct.” He returned the document to Gavril. “However, it also puts the duchy in canton status for that time. You would be giving up your seat for those five years to a regent named by him.” Nicul nodded toward Baron Wulfenbach.
Gavril nodded. He appeared to be sitting in deep thought. He finally turned, searching those behind him, holding his hand out to the old woman, “Dădaca? I got into this by not remembering, and not listening. Am I remembering correctly, now?”
The old nursemaid frowned at him, “Think in the tale of the Prince of Bátoriová, and his battle with his in-laws.” Then she came to stand behind his chair, placing her hands on his shoulders. “My boy, there are many wrongs to right, but the Mare Spătar has not removed you from your seat. There is still time.”
Gav’s eyes flickered to Dalibor, and he nodded before turning in his seat to take the old woman’s hands. “I remember the tales you told me. This is the stick for forgetting my primary duty, isn’t it?”
“And the carrot for the people, yes.” Dafi noticed the old woman was focused on Gavril, and had not spared a look for anyone else for this lecture. “Five years is not a long time when the horizon is clearing. I have served your house ten times that long, and you will serve your people properly in return, yes?”
“Yes, Dădaca - I do remember my duty, finally.” Gavril smiled. ”I hope you will help me remember the tales to relate them to my heir.”
Dafi could not help but interject, “You have tales of the Mare Spătar in the city?”
“Well, not so much in just the city.” The old woman nodded to Dalibor. “The house tried to suppress the tale of your return home, and though your name was forbidden, they had none that would take the place of commander and right hand of the lord. Not that the one left in the seat was of a mind to divide any of the power over the lands. So, when the tales of the lone wanderer who was aiding the people reached the manor, we knew who it was, and could not speak the name by orders from above... but the title was not forbidden. My ever-so-many-greats Aunt Stela brought back news to our village from below stairs.”
“Sche got home hokay, den?” Dal nodded, “Goot dot sche lived, bot mit her spreading der tales, hrm...”
The nursemaid chuckled, “Those tales gave the village hope, and helped us brave the strain of service to the House, to keep the tales in the ears of those who needed to hear them. The House knew the tales were spreading, but not how. They hired tutors for their childer, to teach them as the House would have them see the world.” Then she patted the duke on the shoulder, “Sometimes, those of us in service could add another viewpoint for them to consider.”
“Sometimes the view included a way to see ourselves as something other than a copy of a sire,” Gav said, placing his hand on the old woman’s. “Though I am afraid the stories that ended in a happy-ever-after consisting of wedding the princess did not resonate with me.”
“Pfft, sweetling - I knew you would only have children through extreme scientific effort since your first formal presentation.” She giggled lightly, and kissed the top of his head.
Gavril’s expression was one of deep surprise. “If you knew that long, why did you keep introducing me to the girls?”
“I had to protect you from your father, my boy. If I was handling the introductions like a nosy village baba, it meant he didn’t see the need to interfere.” She smiled at Nicul, “and he also didn’t notice how often you and your friends took off to the hunting lodges. However, that is the past, and now you need to look to the future. With a plan in hand for an heir, you know what to do next.”
“I do?” Gavril seemed confused for a moment, before he brightened and repeated with more conviction, “Yes, I do.” He stood, and his companions got to their feet as well. The duke stepped before the baron, signing the request for the formal audit. When he straightened, his carriage was the upright posture of a noble, but rather than straining to stand straight under the regard of others, he seemed to be lifted by purpose. “I do hereby request an audit of my holdings, and will cooperate with the regent assigned to the duchy. I would also wish to formally state that my heir will be chosen from the children of my cousins, Colonel Hynter and Locotenant... “ here he paused to grin at Dal, “Dalibaur. Training of the heir will be discussed when the children arrive, and will depend on the available schools and the wishes of their parents.”
Baron Wulfenbach raised an eyebrow, and addressed Dafi and Dal. “Do you agree to this initial request?”
Dafi looked to Dal, who shrugged with a grin, “As long as ve kin be involved in de trainink und schoolink, Hy kin live mit it.”
She nodded, “With respect to being flexible for an unknown future, this is a suitable arrangement.”
“By this agreement, I would be expected to not sire children myself, and I believe it would be best for all concerned that I did not enter a contract for issue,” Duke Gavril sounded more relieved than aggrieved by this development.
The baron chuckled. “Aha, so this suits you as well, then.” He considered Gavril darkly over steepled fingers as he rested his elbows on the desk, “Considering you will have five years of regency tutelage to complete, I hope you realize this is a long-term plan.”
“Your Excellency, before today my plans could be numbered in the hours, perhaps days if I were lucky. Now, they include years and even decades! I can now plan to survive long enough to give my heir time to have a family of their own, a stable duchy to administer, and peaceable relations with the neighbors.” Gavril’s grin showed a confidence and joy he had not exhibited at the beginning of the meeting.
“Hm. After you complete the recommended changes to straighten out the major problems your ‘advisers’ caused, and if you agree to take on a... small list of tasks for Europa,” the baron’s expression was solemn, save for that twitch of his mouth that Dafi hoped was a suppressed smile rather than a nervous tic, “then there should be no problem solemnizing your relationship with your companion.”
Gavril spun about, going to his knee before his beloved, “Nicul Anton Doru Bogdan, Pfaltzboier Dolj - it would be my honor, should you consider me worthy, to offer myself to you as husband... would a five-year betrothal be too long?”
The young man sat heavily in his chair, his mouth working as if attempting to form words to respond, before sliding out of the chair to kneel with Gavril, holding him tightly.
“I hope that is an acceptance,” Dafi muttered.
