“My lord, the Earl of Chadwick, commanded me to take Melengar. I was following his orders,” Breckton replied.
“So the crucial demands of battle prevented you from breaking away until now.” Ethelred nodded.
“No, Your Lordship. Only the fall of Drondil Fields remains and the siege is well tended. Victory is assured and does not require my attention.”
“Then I don’t understand. Why didn’t you come when I ordered you to appear before me?”
“I do not serve you, Your Lordship. I serve the Earl of Chadwick.”
Archibald’s disdain for Breckton did not diminish his delight at seeing Ethelred verbally slapped.
“May I remind you, sir knight, that I will be emperor in just a few weeks?”
“You may, Your Lordship.”
Ethelred looked confused. This brought a smile to Archibald’s face. He enjoyed seeing someone else trying to deal with Breckton and knew exactly how the regent felt. Was Breckton granting Ethelred permission to remind the knight, or had he just insinuated the regent might not be emperor? Either way, the comment was rude yet spoken so plainly and respectfully that it appeared innocent of any ill intent. Breckton was like that—politely confounding and pointedly confusing. He had a way of making Archibald feel stupid, and that was just one of the many reasons he despised the arrogant man.
“I see this is going to continue to be an issue,” Ethelred said. “It demonstrates the point of this meeting. As emperor, I will require good men to help me reign. You have proven yourself a capable leader, and as such, I want you to serve me directly. I am prepared to offer you the office and title of grand marshal of all imperial forces. In addition, I’ll grant you the province of Melengar.”
Archibald staggered. “Melengar is mine! Or will be when it is taken. It was promised to me.”
“Yes, Archie, but times change. I need a strong man in the north, defending my border.” Ethelred looked at Breckton. “I will appoint you the Marquis of Melengar. All too fitting, given that you were responsible for taking it.”
“This is outrageous!” Archibald shouted, stomping his foot. “We had a deal. You have the imperial crown and Saldur has the imperial miter. What do I get? What is the reward for all my sweat and sacrifice? Without me, you wouldn’t have Melengar to bestow to anyone!”
“Don’t make a fool of yourself, Archie,” Saldur said gently. “You must have known we could never entrust such an important realm to you. You are too young, too inexperienced, too… weak.”
There was silence as Archibald fumed.
“Well?” Ethelred turned his attention back to Breckton. “Marquis of Melengar? Grand marshal of the imperial host? What say you?”
Sir Breckton showed no emotion. “I serve the Earl of Chadwick, just as my father and grandfather before me. It does not appear he wishes this. If there is nothing else, I must return to my charge in Melengar.” Sir Breckton pivoted sharply and strode back to Archibald, where he knelt once more.
Ethelred stared after him in shock.
“Don’t leave Aquesta just yet,” Archibald told the knight. “I may have need of you here.”
“As you wish, my lord.” Breckton stood and briskly departed.
They were silent as they listened to the knight’s footfalls echo and fade. Ethelred’s face turned scarlet and he clenched his fists. Saldur stared after Breckton with his usual irritated glare.
“It seems you didn’t take into account the man’s unwavering sense of loyalty when you made your plans,” Archibald railed. “But then, how could you, seeing as how you obviously don’t understand the meaning of the word yourself? You should have consulted me first. I would have told you what the result would be. But you couldn’t do that, could you? No, because it was me you were plotting to stab in the back!”
“Calm down, Archie,” Saldur said.
“Stop calling me that. My name is Archibald!” Spit flew from his lips. “You’re both so smug and arrogant, but I’m no pawn. One word from me and Breckton will turn his army and march on Aquesta.” The earl pointed toward the still open door. “They’re loyal to him, you know—every last one of the miserable cretins. They will do whatever he says, and as you can see, he worships me.”
He clenched his fists and advanced, maddened that his soft heels did not have the same audible impact as Breckton’s.
“I could get King Alric to throw his support behind me as well. I could return his precious Melengar in exchange for the rest of Avryn. I could beat you at your own little game. I’d have the Northern Imperial Army in my right hand and what remains of the Royalists in my left. I could crush both of you in less than a month. So don’t tell me to calm down, Sauly! I’ve had it with your condescending tone and your holier-than-thou attitude. You’re as much a worm as Ethelred. You’re both in this together, weaving your webs and plotting against me. You just may have caught your own selves in your sticky trap this time!”
He headed for the door.