The day after Fenric spoke with the Society, Lord Anshelm made his customary call for his assistance after breakfast. It seemed Lord Anshelm had set aside work on economic reports for now, however, for instead, he handed Fenric a stack of three letters.

“The Earls do so love complaining to me,” Lord Anshelm said wearily as he sat back down. “Read each of them to me, will you? I’ve already read them, of course, but perhaps hearing the words aloud will help me formulate my response. One can always hope…”

Fenric took in the first few lines of each letter. One from Earl Ethelwin of Wesland, one from Earl Sigbalt of Wyrmcliff and one from Earl Kolgrim of Foshem. 

“Does my Lord have a preference for which letter my Lord would like to start with?”

Anshelm waved his hand dismissively and Fenric picked the top one – the one from Earl Ethelwin of Wesland.

“To the honourable Lord Anshelm Drotzet, King-Brother. Long live King Roderic!

I write to you once more with concerns about our relations with the Kingdom of Muntairic. While there is reason still for caution, as will always be the case in matters of foreign policy, the laws governing trade between us and the Munts were written in a different era, and I maintain my opinion that unless plans are made for the conquering of the eastern reaches of Muntairic, the ones which once made up part of Wesland, it would be better to relax these laws. At present, they merely stifle trade for us and them both. I am a man of honour and would no more shy away from a battle with the Munts than my ancestors have, but I insist on a cause of action being decided upon – if there is to be war, let us prepare for war, if there is to be peace, let us strengthen trade across the border. I understand that-”

Anshelm waved his hand once more and Fenric stopped reading. 

“Yes, yes, we’re young and new to our positions and don’t know what we’re doing. I get it, Ethelwin,” Anshelm muttered as he dragged a hand through his hair. “The rest of the letter just repeats the same points, so there’s no reason to revisit that. If you’d prepare to take dictation, Fenric?”

“Yes, Lord,” Fenric said and began laying out parchment.

As he did so, he privately wondered about the contents of the letter. War with Muntairic? Was that really in anyone’s interest right now? Earl Ethelwin presented a situation where the only two causes of action were war or freer trade. That may not necessarily be true, but they certainly did seem like the two outcomes that would be most in Earl Ethelwin’s favour – perhaps that was why Anshelm found it tiring? Fenric shot a look back at him and found that he’d moved to the window. He opened the shutters, letting in a gust of fresh, icy wind. In the distance, seagulls called men back to the sea. 

The wind pushed Anshelm’s long locks back and they danced behind him like flames. A number of small braids were intermingled with his free flowing hair, lending him a certain elegance as he looked out over the city, waiting for Fenric to be ready.

Even as the details of the situation eluded Fenric, he could not entirely see where Earl Ethelwin was mistaken in his assessment. Not about war, but about the trade that Earl Ethelwin seemed to favour – surely a warmer relationship with their western neighbour would only be a good thing? 

“Ready, Lord.”

With a sigh, Lord Anshelm closed the shutters again and walked back to his chair. Anshelm monotonously rattled of the opening:

“To the honourable Earl Ethelwin of Wesland, Wallkeeper.”

Then he paused for a few moments longer than was needed for Fenric to write it.

“I understand and appreciate your concerns, but must again remind you that though stronger trade ties to the Kingdom of Muntairic would be desirable both for Haifaric and, I believe, for Muntairic, the Munts have continuously demanded several religious concessions before a trade treaty could be formed. The strength of our laws are in direct proportion to the strength of Muntaish laws and if we were to relax ours while theirs stayed the same, they would benefit in far excess of what we would. As I have no doubt that you are aware of these circumstances, I am forced to assume that you wish us to negotiate with an open mind concerning accepting these concessions. These are concessions that both the king and his court gothi view as unacceptable, however, and– No, strike that last sentence.”

“I hadn’t gotten to it yet,” Fenric assured him as he kept writing. 

“Good, good…” Lord Anshelm muttered. “He might just accuse me of calling him impious and we don’t need an honour dispute on our hands.” 

Fenric smiled in amusement as he finished writing what Anshelm had asked him to thus far. He could practically hear Anshelm rolling his eyes. 

“Write this instead: These are not concessions that the king or his court gothi feel able to grant at this time. If the situation has changed, King Roderic will gladly receive you at Cletzhem Stronghold to discuss possible ways for Haifaric to move forward in our relationship to Muntairic. We have heard of no such change in Silveck, but as you are closer to Muntairic, you would be the first to know of any such changes. Otherwise, I humbly ask my Earl Ethelwin to await my arrival at The White Watcher. I shall travel as soon as my commitments in Silveck allow me and I shall be in your presence not as myself, but as an extension of our King Roderic, for our king takes the concerns of his Earls most seriously. I will await–”

Before Lord Anshelm could finish his sentence, the door flew open.

"Gytha Jordis is at the door!" A winded Sigurt Housecarl yelled at them.

Fenric almost made ink blots all over the page he had been writing on and hurried to put away his quill. Lord Anshelm arose from his chair.

"Whyever would she come here?" Lord Anshelm asked, genuine confusion clear on his face.

Sigurt shrugged helplessly. 

"I asked her, but she just told me to go get you, Lord."

Lord Anshelm sighed.

"We will have to come back to this, Fenric. If you would put the tools away while I go greet our guest?" 

Fenric nodded. 

And so it starts, he thought darkly as Anshelm left the room.