Luther's Pride Part 37

Luther left the grand master bath behind as he and Helena parted ways. She slipped into her new chamber, and Luther entered his to find Wyll ready and standing at the mirror. Dressing was a quicker experience with someone there to help him, which was not the point. Wyll, for his part, was too young to take it as an insult that he didn’t know how to do his job if Luther did some of it himself. An older valet would have taken the insult to Wulfric and demanded mediation. For his part, Luther didn’t think much of it; he was trying to help and was used to doing it himself. 

The business attire he chose today was a casual but elegant tailcoat. A muted navy blue cinched his waist and covered his behind with its long tails in the back. The front cut away to reveal a silver double-breasted silk vest patterned with floral blossoms. The linen shirt beneath was stark white compared to the tan skin beneath it, and the breeches, stockings, and shoes proved stiff and clingy as he exited his chamber. 

“Thank you, Wyll.” He said as he put his rings on by the door. 

“Your cravat, sir,” Wyll said, protesting. “It’s crooked.” 

Luther rolled his eyes, but lifted his chin, letting Wyll reach in and make the adjustments. 

“Thank you, my lord,” Wyll said, making his adjustments with his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth in concentration. “I hope you’ve had a good morning so far?” 

“Yes,” Luther answered. “Thank you.” 

Wyll fixed his collar and nodded. “All set, sir.” 

Luther adjusted his stance, testing the fit at the slightly tighter press against his neck. Gods above these clothes. He hadn’t worn clothes like this for the majority of his travels, but now that he’d returned to the empire and civilization, there were expectations to uphold, especially as a lord. 

With a final expression of gratitude, Luther left his apartment behind and traveled through the manor to the offices. He should have been able to take a few days off after one wedding, much less four, but with his father dead, there was only so much Criella and Wulfric could do to fill the void. Some issues had been waiting for his personal attention, and impatient people often produced results through sheer force of will. 

One such person waited for him in his office. 

“I don’t care if he’s busy! I’m not leaving here until I see him, and if he’s too busy fucking one of his wives to pay attention, I don’t care.” A woman’s voice flew through the door as soon as he opened it. Its originator stood across from Wulfric in the moderate room, sitting on one of three chairs against the right wall. Wulfric stood a few feet away from her, bowing in apology. 

“I’ll take it from here, Wulfric, if you’d be so kind as to make the introductions?” Luther asked, eyeing the person raising her voice at the man, a woman he hadn’t met before. 

The woman was older than her voice suggested, with the signs of a decade more experience than Luther evident in the furrowed lines of her brow, the creases at the corners of her eyes, and the scars on her bare, muscular arms. She didn’t have Helena’s size, but was an inch shorter than Luther in her heavy boots, and beneath her shoulders, she possessed a tightly muscled, slender figure with the curves of a narrow waist and wide hips. 

She wore a rudimentary outfit, a dirty white cotton shirt loose beneath a leather apron. Her leather trousers were likewise worn, creased, singed, and filthy, with all the signs of wear a blacksmith might demonstrate. Yet the tools in her apron pocket suggested a more sophisticated profession. Either way, she was a craftsman of some sort, and a demihuman one at that. Her pointed ears, long canines, dense musculature, and skin the color of dark emeralds made that obvious. An orc, if he had to guess, though the last one he’d met had gray skin, was much larger and had tried to kill him with a rock. He had to assume there was no relation.

“Lord Luther Le Fey, this is Lavinia Forscythe, of Raefendale.” Wulfric made the introductions short, sweet, and to the point. If Luther didn’t know any better, he’d think Wulfric was eager to make his escape. 

Lavinia eyed Luther, as if daring him to show any sign of surprise, shock, or distaste. When he showed none and bowed low enough to her to signify a deep respect, her entire demeanor changed from one of wrath to one of prestigious dignity. 

“Thank you, Wulfric, you may go, but please send an attendant in with some tea,” Luther said, moving past him to sit in a chair opposite Lavinia. 

The office had a desk against the far wall, but they’d clearly arranged the near section of the room with conferencing in mind. Two semi-circles of three chairs each sat across a tea table from one another, its thin legs unable to hold more than a teaset and tray of snacks. 

Wulfric reached the door in record time, while still maintaining a sense of propriety and class. He bowed to them both as he left. 

Lavinia turned her attention from the retreating Wulfric to Luther. 

“To what do I owe the honor of your visit today?” Luther asked. 

Lavinia raised one of her eyebrows, the rings along the outer edge of it jingling as she did so. She had a ring piercing in her nose that hung beneath it, her left eyebrow had several rings along its ridge, and rings pierced her ears along the top of her points and bottom of her lobes. “You don’t even know why I’m here?” 

“I’m sorry, I don’t,” Luther said. “Please, he gestured for her to take her seat. “Enlighten me.” 

Lavinia took her seat, pulling her long, wavy seaweed-green hair forward so it fell over her chest rather than trap itself behind her. She ran her fingers through it in a surprisingly nervous gesture that she didn’t seem to realize she’d done. 

“Your father owes me–owed me,” she corrected herself, “a considerable sum before he died.”  

“I see,” Luther said. “Do you have the figures and the receipt?” 

“I presented them to your man days ago.” She said. 

“Did he give you a reason for not paying it?” Luther asked, surprised at Wulfric’s reluctance. 

“He said the sum was too great and that it required your signature for removal from the vaults. He also wanted to receive the device before payment, but I won’t deliver the goods until I have the coin. No offense to you, but I trusted your father, not his servants.” 

Luther nodded. “What device?” He asked. “My father commissioned something from you?” 

“He’s commissioned a great many things from me over the years.” The woman answered. “The lights in this place, for example.” She pointed at the crystals set into the walls, which were not glowing at the moment, as ample sunlight came from the courtyard window behind the desk. 

“Oh, so you’re the craftsman responsible for those!” Luther said, clapping his hands together. “It’s a delight to meet you, those are truly magnificent. You’re quite talented.”

Lavinia eyed him, uncertain about something as she expressed her gratitude for the compliment. “Thank you.” 

“Of course,” Luther said, eyeing the woman with a more studious expression. He studied her face, as if searching her brown eyes for secrets. 

Lavinia returned his gaze, and his searching quest for secrets as she studied his face. “You look like your father.”  

“Thank you,” Luther said, chuckling at the sudden compliment. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” 

“Eh, he wasn’t that good-looking.” Lavinia shrugged. 

The comment struck Luther as hilarious, and he laughed with as little propriety as he remembered having since he stepped through the doors to his father’s mansion. His mansion, now. 

A servant appeared with a tray of cups, a kettle, and a container of tea. She set them on the table, and Luther arranged the tea as Lavinia watched him. He poured her cup of tea first, treating her as a guest, and then poured his own, letting the leaves and spices steep as he returned the kettle to its perch. 

“So, what did my father commission from you that’s so expensive it requires my signature?” Luther asked. 

Lavinia glanced at the servant, who lingered by the day waiting for instruction or dismissal. 

Luther followed her eyes, surprised to see the young woman was still there, and more surprised to see Lavinia’s discretion with members of his father’s staff. 

“Please tell Wulfric or Criella I’ll be needing my accounts ledger and the key to my vault.” He informed the servant girl, who curtseyed and left them. 

He sat back, letting the tea cool, and raised his eyebrow at Lavinia to signal her to continue. 

“Your father commissioned a staff from me. A collapsible one.” Lavinia said, her voice low and quiet, making Luther lean forward to hear her until he abandoned his gentlemanly posture and placed his elbows on his knees. 

“His specifications required expensive materials, and he instructed that I ensorcell the staff to attract lightning,” Lavinia said. “I think he was planning on challenging someone named Branan Feothe, he’s a weather-mage who lives in the shire.”  

“Ah, yes, I’ve met him,” Luther said, stroking his chin as he sat back to consider Lavinia’s words. “Did you complete the staff?” 

“Yes,” Lavinia said. “And I have it ready for delivery, if you have my gold. Though I should warn you, I can’t see what use it would be against Branan. Anyone holding it would be toast, and he’d be smart enough to recognize its magic and not use it himself, if that was your father’s thought.” 

“What’s the range on the staff?” Luther asked. “How far away will it attract lightning from?” 

“One hundred feet, once activated,” Lavinia answered. “Anyone holding it would fry.” 

“Is at least one end of it pointed?” Luther asked, curious. 

“Both ends are pointed,” Lavinia said, warily. “That was your father’s instruction.” 

“How clever,” Luther said, satisfied. “When did he commission this from you?” 

“About a month ago,” Lavinia said. “I had to get some of the metal imported, and I’m not that familiar with coppersmithing.” 

“It’s copper?” Luther asked, curious. 

“It has a copper casing and some cores, insulated by aluminum around a steel core. It’s eight feet high when fully extended, and a foot fully contracted.” Lavinia explained. “It’s a complicated mechanism, and I wouldn’t swing it at much and expect it to work properly still, but you can control the length between one and eight feet through the runes, as well as activate and deactivate the lightning attraction. Though even with the magical attraction off, it’ll still be a tall metal rod, so…”  

“How soon can you deliver it?” Luther asked. 

“You understand it’s not really useful, right?” Lavinia asked, now concerned and reevaluating her estimation of Luther’s intelligence. 

Luther laughed. “My father and Branan weren’t on great terms by the end. I suspect he commissioned you to make this so he could fight Branan and his spouses with an advantage in case they challenged him, or he challenged them. There’ve been some comments recently that made me question the circumstances of his death, but I’m not sure it matters. Branan wants my title, and he’ll challenge me to get it as soon as he’s allowed. As is the law.” 

“As is the law…” Lavinia said, considering his words. “But I don’t see how a pointed staff that attracts the lightning of a spheromancer would be a viable weapon against one.” 

“I take it you studied your trade and your art, but not general matters of the natural philosophies?” Luther asked. 

“I guess you could say that,” Lavinia said. “I’m self-taught. The man who owned me when I was younger was a smith, and I would watch him work his craft, learning what I could.” 

“The man who owned you?” Luther asked. 

Lavinia looked at him as if he were stupid. “My tribe attacked Raefendale when I was young. My parents died in their attack, and the town guard found me a few days later stealing food and supplies from a smith.” 

“And you were indentured to him until you paid off your debts,” Luther said. “As is the law.” 

“As is the law.” Lavinia agreed. “But it was difficult to pay off the silver ingots I stole. Still, the man was kind, in his way, and your father kept the tally of my debts fairly. I paid them off years ago. Then he financed my apprenticeship, and…” She hesitated, as if sorry to speak of him in the past tense. “Your father was a kind man. I owe him a lot. He was much kinder to demihumans and my kind than any of the other lords I’ve met.” 

Luther nodded. “He was a kind man, for sure.” 

A knock at the door drew Luther’s attention, and he turned to see Wulfric entering with the ledger and the vault key. He passed both to Luther and stood to await his dismissal. Luther reviewed the ledger. 

“How much did you and my father agree upon?” Luther asked. “Noting, of course, that I can verify the amount in my father’s journals.” 

“It was three thousand,” Lavinia said without hesitation. 

Luther nodded. “If you’ll wait here, I’ll fetch the sum.”

“Of course,” Lavinia said, straightening her spine in her seat. 

Luther took the ledger to the desk, laid it open, and flipped the pages. He plucked the quill from its stand, dipped it into its inkwell, and scribbled the deduction into it, making a note that it was to: ‘Lavinia, for a clever rod.’

“Tell me,” Luther said, speaking as nonchalantly as possible as he made his notations. “Are you married, Lavinia?” 

Lavinia’s brow furrowed. “No, my lord.” 

“Would you like to stay for lunch?” Luther asked. 

Lavinia looked at Wulfric, confused at the non-sequitur. Wulfric made no sign of having heard Luther. He wasn’t there to listen to the conversation; he was merely waiting for his dismissal. 

“I’m afraid I can’t, my lord. I have orders to fill.” Lavinia said. “I’m making deliveries today, and only stopped here because it was along my route.” 

“Of course,” Luther said as he returned the ledger to Wulfric. “Thank you, Wulfric. You may return this to its proper place.” 

 Wulfric bowed and departed with the ledger. 

“Wait here a moment, and I’ll be back with your gold,” Luther said, to which Lavinia bowed her head. He closed the door behind him and nearly laughed with glee as he ran to the vault and back. His journey back was slower, as the reinforced purses he carried were heavy with coin. Three bags, each containing one thousand coins, were weighed, counted, and measured in triplicate. 

Lavinia was exactly where he’d left her when he returned, though she’d emptied her teacup. 

“Your payment, madam,” Luther said, setting the bags down on the table. “But please consider my lunch invitation an open one. Your first available day. Simply let one of my staff know.” 

“Why?” Lavinia asked, eying him with suspicion. 

“Why what?” Luther asked. 

“Why do you want to have lunch with me?” Lavinia clarified. 

“To discuss your artificery,” Luther said. “I have come to have a certain appreciation for magic woven into objects over the years, and I find myself enthralled by the craft. I simply can’t learn enough about it.” 

“Oh,” Lavinia said, as if relieved to hear it. “Yes, very well then, I’ll call you on for lunch someday soon, when I’m feeling long-winded, shall I?” 

“Please do,” Luther said, bowing to her. “And please deliver the staff ordered as soon as possible. I expect I’ll need it within days.” 

“That’s easy enough,” Lavinia said. She reached into her satchel and produced an inch-and-a-half thick rod, a sharp pyramid spike on either end. She tossed it to Luther, who caught it one-handed. The lightness of the work surprised him, as did the runes on it. “Say ‘push’in the fey language to make it grow, and ‘pull’ to make it shrink. To activate the lightning attraction beyond the normal materials, say ‘well of storms’ in the fey tongue. It should last about an hour. I wouldn’t recommend touching it after a strike for a bit, not for the zap, but for the heat.” 

Luther nodded. “It won’t deform due to the heat?” 

Lavinia pressed her finger to one of the runes and tapped it. “If it does, it’ll take more heat than a forge. Just keep the engravings clean.” 

“Thank you,” Luther said. “I can’t tell you how happy this little surprise has made me.” 

Lavinia shrugged and stood. “Happy customers are worth their purse’s weight in gold,” Lavinia said, placing the bags in her satchel. “It’s a pleasure doing business with you, Lord Le Fey. I expect I’ll take you up on that lunch offer soon.” 

“Please do,” Luther said, holding the door for her as she left. He followed after, walking by her side as she departed for the main hall and front door.” 

Criella, Eira, and Rhosyn were in the front hall talking when they descended the stairs. The three young women lifted their gazes. Eira and Rhosyn smiled to see their husband, and he smiled at them. Criella smiled to see him, but when her eyes turned to Lavinia, she frowned. 

“Eira, Rhosyn, let me introduce you to Lavinia Forscythe, an artificer of great skill from the town. Lavinia, these are two of my spouses, Eira and Rhosyn.” Luther said, making the introductions. 

Eira and Rhosyn bowed shallowly in return, not in insult, but in informality. 

“My ladies.” Lavinia bowed when she reached the bottom of the stairs. “Criella.” 

Eira and Rhosyn didn’t miss the venom in the name, but Criella didn’t respond. She frowned at the woman and watched her walk to the door. Luther saw her out, nodding his farewell as she departed to her wagon. He turned to see Criella, Eira, and Rhosyn waiting for him, so he returned to them. They clearly had something they wished to discuss.