The first few days of the journey back to Gloomwood Manor passed without incident, which, after the weeks preceding it, was a welcome change. Other than a brief moment of alarm on the first night when Prince Lorel’s carriage started spewing water, no one attacked them, no one died, and nothing exploded. The carriage leakage, it turned out, was intentional.
Drake had wondered how a single tank of seawater inside a carriage would fit seven kromians over what would now be an eight day journey, thanks to the slower pace enforced by Prince Lorel’s giant rolling fish tank. As it turned out, the tank wasn’t the only item the kromians and the capital artisans had built into the carriage. They’d also installed a small sea gate.
That was why the carriage leaked the first day. Every day after the camp settled in the kromians would drain the tank of old seawater and then refill it by opening the sea gate, which flooded the tank with seawater fresh from the ocean. The gate was also small enough no krakens could fit through... or so Prince Lorel reassured them all.
That sea gate was going to be absurdly handy. Drake had been worried they’d have to gather enough salt to create fresh seawater at his manor, but thanks to the sea gate, they could pour the sea directly into whatever enclosure they constructed for the kromians. In Prince Lorel’s case, he’d request a habitat that could easily be created by draining one of the large square pools in Gloomwood Manor’s central courtyard and then building up walls around it... essentially, constructing an above ground pool.
Once that was done, Drake’s folks could fill the pool with seawater using the sea gate to pipe it in from half a realm away, and cycle the water as needed. It was a lot less complicated than Drake had feared, and after what Goktul had done in creating Magnum, he suspected building this “above ground pool” would be child’s play for the old zarovian smith.
During their long days of travel, Drake occupied himself with studying past battles at Gloomwood Manor and how prior lords had defended it from various groups of invaders. He hoped he’d never have to engage in a pitched battle to defend his new home, however, he was now hosting a kromian who would be Prince Varnath’s primary target: his brother Lorel, the only other living kromian with a legitimate claim to the throne.
If the kromians did attack Gloomwood Manor, they’d be fighting far from the sea. Judging from the fact that Prince Lorel and his kromians evidently couldn’t go more than a few days outside of water without drying out, Drake was entirely comfortable with his chances. Thanks to this ability to beg favors of the silverwood, his manor was among the most defensible in the realm. Also, he suspected Olivia could wipe out whole squads of kromians with chainfire.
He realized now how much he’d missed Olivia. He’d had to leave a competent defender behind to take care of his manor, and he had no doubt Olivia had done that and more. Still, she’d missed the banquets and the beach. She’d also missed the slaughter. It was a wash.
As for Prince Varnath... let that genocidal bastard come. If Prince Varnath was foolish enough to assault Gloomwood Manor with the intent of taking out his exiled brother, Drake would happily shoot him in the face with Magnum. He’d save the realm the trouble of winning the war by winning it for them.
It was on the third day of travel that he finally managed to convince Emily to spend the day riding in a different wagon, primarily for a change of scenery. Her leaving his carriage allowed him to finally gather Lady Marissa, Samuel, and Lydia together and ask them the question he’d been curious about since his short summit with Felix Proudglade in the sacred chamber.
“All right, folks, here’s a question I need you all to answer without leaving anything out,” Drake kept his voice quiet despite the fact that no one could overhear them over the rumble of his armored carriage. “What does it mean to ask a question of the silverwood?”
Marissa eyed Samuel with fresh curiosity. “Have you not discussed this with him?”
Samuel, now, was one of the only people in Drake’s camp who knew that Lady Marissa was actually a former Lord Gloomwood. After a brief debate with Lydia and Marissa, the three of them had decided to tell Samuel as soon as they got on the road. His spymaster would figure it out soon enough anyway, and given Samuel would likely ask why Drake wanted “Lady Marissa” involved in leadership chats, it had been the path of least resistance.
Of course, now, Samuel respectfully referred to Lady Marissa as “Lady Gloomwood”... though only in private. He also seemed, if Drake wasn’t imagining it, rather in awe of Drake’s mother, who was apparently a Big Deal back in her day. It was rare to see Samuel in awe of anyone, and given he wasn’t in awe of Drake, that stung a little.
Still, at least Samuel and his mother got along. It would have been worse if they were constantly at odds, since he needed both of them at their best. And now, he had them.
“I have not, Lady Gloomwood,” Samuel said. “Would you like to speak of it?”
“I would like you to speak of it, Samuel,” Drake clarified firmly. “I’d also like to know why you never told me the silverwood was intelligent, or that I could ask it questions, since it’s apparently so important. So let’s start with that, shall we?”
Samuel then looked to Marissa. “Lady Gloomwood?”
She smiled warmly. “Of course, Samuel. I welcome your introduction on the subject.”
That appeared to please Drake’s butler greatly, which was another annoyance. Samuel cleared his throat and settled his hands in his lap, a sure sign that Drake was about to get a history lesson. At least he’d asked for this one.
“So far as we know, the silverwood has existed since the dawn of time,” Samuel began patiently. “It was among the first entities the Eidolons created when they began to stitch together the realm that we would inherit. While it is not a god, it is perhaps the most ancient and powerful living being that exists in all the realm... other than the Eidolons.”
“Great,” Drake said. “That would have been good to know a few weeks ago.”
“Yet the silverwood is also absorbed in its own affairs, affairs that stretch across a time scale that is quite difficult for us to imagine,” Samuel continued patiently. “It shows little interest in mortal affairs. We are creatures whose lives, to it, pass in the blink of an eye.”
“Does it even have eyes?” Drake asked. A tree with eyes would be creepy.
“It does not,” Samuel clarified calmly, “nor does it have a mouth, ears, or any other features that would allow communication as we understand communication. It is also far more than a single tree.”
“Right, that was obvious from the giant forest surrounding my manor.”
“While the core of the silverwood grows in a glade in the center of the forest, you could think of that like the heart, or brain, of a larger entity. The body of the silverwood is the entirety of the forest. Both the silverwood, as in the central tree, and the silverwood, as in the forest, are different pieces of the same entity.”
Drake remembered his earlier conversations about how they might expand the manor to create a small town for others. “Which is why if we clear a bunch of silverwood trees, we’re... like you said. Clipping its fingernails. And we only do that with its permission.”
“Clipping fingernails is as good a metaphor as any,” Samuel agreed. “Also, as to your question regarding why we have not discussed this matter until today, that is because it was not pertinent. Some Lords Gloomwood go their entire lives without interacting with the silverwood. It exists on a scale of time that makes our own lives inconsequential.”
“So how do we ask it questions, then?” Drake pressed. “And why?”
“We speak directly to the tree, however, we are only allowed one question every twenty-three years. That is one aspect of our pact with the ancient tree. In those rare cases where the silverwood chooses to interact with mortals, it simply touches our minds. There, like a seed being planted in fertile soil, it places the thoughts it wishes to convey.”
“I wouldn’t want an ancient tree planting thoughts in my head, so I can see why we don’t hang out much.” Drake considered Samuel’s history lesson. “And if we can only ask it a question every twenty-three years, I also see why Felix is so keen to ask it something. But in cases where we can ask it questions, what kind of questions do we ask?”
“Anything,” Lydia said reverently. “The silverwood is so ancient and immense that it has likely forgotten more than even the most learned of scholars in Korhaurbauten knows. So the opportunity to ask a question of the silverwood, which comes along only once every twenty-three years, offers Lord Gloomwood the chance to gain knowledge that has been lost for centuries. To learn what no one in the entire realm knows.”
“Got it,” Drake agreed. “That certainly sounds like a hell of a bargaining chip.” Drake frowned. “It’s also a much bigger ask than I expected. After I’d already saved Westin, saved Felix’s father, and generally forgiven all the times Lord Proudglade tried to kill me, I’d expected them to be more open to a truce.”
“Felix’s request to ask a question of the silverwood is likely only his opening offer,” Marissa said patiently. “One never opens a negotiation by asking for one what wants. Instead, one starts it—”
“—by asking for far more than you expect, and then letting yourself get bargained down to what you actually want,” Drake finished. “All right, Mom. I can see that. Just the fact that Felix is willing to call a truce is a good thing. At least he’s willing to bargain now.”
His mother smiled proudly. “Of course, Lord Gloomwood.”
It was still so weird to have his mother talk to him this way. Like he was her superior. He was, in the ranks of manor lords, but he doubted he’d ever actually feel that way. Still, at least he didn’t have to worry about her crying over his empty grave back on Earth.
He looked back to Samuel. “So given we live such tiny lives in comparison to the silverwood, I imagine it doesn’t think much of us, does it? Mortals, I mean.”
“It is not a matter of thinking much or less of us, Lord Gloomwood,” Samuel said. “It is simply that it rarely thinks of us at all.”
“Right,” Drake agreed.
“This is not malice,” Samuel continued. “It is simply a difference in perspective.”
“How’s that?”
“Try to imagine how an ancient and powerful being that has lived longer than one hundred thousand of our lives sees this world. How it might regard those who live and die in what, for it, is the space of a few breaths. Do you often consider the affairs of the fly that lands upon your carriage? So it is with the silverwood.”
“So we’re flies to it.”
“In the sense of our lifespans and the effect we have on it... yes. We come into this world, grow to adulthood, and die in less time than it takes the silverwood to grow a new root.”
“So here’s what I want to know now,” Drake said. “When was the last time someone asked it a question?”
“Lord Crow was the last Lord Gloomwood to ask a question of the silverwood.”
“When?”
“He did so approximately two years before you arrived.”
“And what was that question?”
“I do not know. He did not share the question, or its answer, with me.”
Drake sighed. “I’ll say it once more. Fuck Lord Crow.”
Marissa watched him with a hint of consternation. “I wish you would not curse so often.”
“It’s how I cope,” Drake reminded her. “Some people play racquetball or squeeze stress toys. Me? I curse. It’s how I deal with all the fuckery involved in being a manor lord.” He paused as he did the math inside his head and realized something. “You said Lord Crow asked it a question two years ago. I assumed he asked as soon as he could?”
Samuel visibly hesitated. “That is correct, Lord Gloomwood.”
“So that means...” Drake looked at his mother. “The last time someone asked the silverwood a question before Crow would have been about twenty-five years ago.” He was, finally, beginning to suspect why his mother had been so cagey about the circumstances that led to her fleeing with him in her womb twenty-five years ago. “Was that you?”
“Yes,” Marissa said quietly. “Before Lord Crow, I was the last Lord Gloomwood to ask a question of the silverwood.”
“And shortly after that, your battle maid murdered your fiancé, Lord Proudglade. And then you fled to Earth to raise me in exile.” Drake breathed. “Holy fuck, Mom. That’s something you should have led with when you returned.”
“I dare not speak of those circumstances,” Marissa reminded him calmly. “I know you want answers. Know I wish to give them. I would simply ask that you wait a few more days until I can answer all your questions in the manor. There, I know we will not be overheard.”
“And you’ll answer Samuel’s and Lydia’s questions too,” Drake added.
Samuel looked at Marissa. “Lady Gloomwood, I would never—”
“I would,” Drake interrupted. “You’re my successor, Samuel. Lydia is my steward. If there’s some dark event from Mom’s past that’s going to direct my future actions or finally bite me in the ass, I want everyone knowing everything about it so we’re all on the same page.” He glanced at his mother. “Is that going to be a problem?”
“No.” Marissa offered a soft smile. “In this case, I don’t think it will be a problem at all.”
“Good,” Drake said. “So we’ll pick this discussion back up four days from now.”
The first few days of the journey back to Gloomwood Manor passed without incident, which, after the weeks preceding it, was a welcome change. Other than a brief moment of alarm on the first night when Prince Lorel’s carriage started spewing water, no one attacked them, no one died, and nothing exploded. The carriage leakage, it turned out, was intentional.
Drake had wondered how a single tank of seawater inside a carriage would fit seven kromians over what would now be an eight day journey, thanks to the slower pace enforced by Prince Lorel’s giant rolling fish tank. As it turned out, the tank wasn’t the only item the kromians and the capital artisans had built into the carriage. They’d also installed a small sea gate.
That was why the carriage leaked the first day. Every day after the camp settled in the kromians would drain the tank of old seawater and then refill it by opening the sea gate, which flooded the tank with seawater fresh from the ocean. The gate was also small enough no krakens could fit through... or so Prince Lorel reassured them all.
That sea gate was going to be absurdly handy. Drake had been worried they’d have to gather enough salt to create fresh seawater at his manor, but thanks to the sea gate, they could pour the sea directly into whatever enclosure they constructed for the kromians. In Prince Lorel’s case, he’d request a habitat that could easily be created by draining one of the large square pools in Gloomwood Manor’s central courtyard and then building up walls around it... essentially, constructing an above ground pool.
Once that was done, Drake’s folks could fill the pool with seawater using the sea gate to pipe it in from half a realm away, and cycle the water as needed. It was a lot less complicated than Drake had feared, and after what Goktul had done in creating Magnum, he suspected building this “above ground pool” would be child’s play for the old zarovian smith.
During their long days of travel, Drake occupied himself with studying past battles at Gloomwood Manor and how prior lords had defended it from various groups of invaders. He hoped he’d never have to engage in a pitched battle to defend his new home, however, he was now hosting a kromian who would be Prince Varnath’s primary target: his brother Lorel, the only other living kromian with a legitimate claim to the throne.
If the kromians did attack Gloomwood Manor, they’d be fighting far from the sea. Judging from the fact that Prince Lorel and his kromians evidently couldn’t go more than a few days outside of water without drying out, Drake was entirely comfortable with his chances. Thanks to this ability to beg favors of the silverwood, his manor was among the most defensible in the realm. Also, he suspected Olivia could wipe out whole squads of kromians with chainfire.
He realized now how much he’d missed Olivia. He’d had to leave a competent defender behind to take care of his manor, and he had no doubt Olivia had done that and more. Still, she’d missed the banquets and the beach. She’d also missed the slaughter. It was a wash.
As for Prince Varnath... let that genocidal bastard come. If Prince Varnath was foolish enough to assault Gloomwood Manor with the intent of taking out his exiled brother, Drake would happily shoot him in the face with Magnum. He’d save the realm the trouble of winning the war by winning it for them.
It was on the third day of travel that he finally managed to convince Emily to spend the day riding in a different wagon, primarily for a change of scenery. Her leaving his carriage allowed him to finally gather Lady Marissa, Samuel, and Lydia together and ask them the question he’d been curious about since his short summit with Felix Proudglade in the sacred chamber.
“All right, folks, here’s a question I need you all to answer without leaving anything out,” Drake kept his voice quiet despite the fact that no one could overhear them over the rumble of his armored carriage. “What does it mean to ask a question of the silverwood?”
Marissa eyed Samuel with fresh curiosity. “Have you not discussed this with him?”
Samuel, now, was one of the only people in Drake’s camp who knew that Lady Marissa was actually a former Lord Gloomwood. After a brief debate with Lydia and Marissa, the three of them had decided to tell Samuel as soon as they got on the road. His spymaster would figure it out soon enough anyway, and given Samuel would likely ask why Drake wanted “Lady Marissa” involved in leadership chats, it had been the path of least resistance.
Of course, now, Samuel respectfully referred to Lady Marissa as “Lady Gloomwood”... though only in private. He also seemed, if Drake wasn’t imagining it, rather in awe of Drake’s mother, who was apparently a Big Deal back in her day. It was rare to see Samuel in awe of anyone, and given he wasn’t in awe of Drake, that stung a little.
Still, at least Samuel and his mother got along. It would have been worse if they were constantly at odds, since he needed both of them at their best. And now, he had them.
“I have not, Lady Gloomwood,” Samuel said. “Would you like to speak of it?”
“I would like you to speak of it, Samuel,” Drake clarified firmly. “I’d also like to know why you never told me the silverwood was intelligent, or that I could ask it questions, since it’s apparently so important. So let’s start with that, shall we?”
Samuel then looked to Marissa. “Lady Gloomwood?”
She smiled warmly. “Of course, Samuel. I welcome your introduction on the subject.”
That appeared to please Drake’s butler greatly, which was another annoyance. Samuel cleared his throat and settled his hands in his lap, a sure sign that Drake was about to get a history lesson. At least he’d asked for this one.
“So far as we know, the silverwood has existed since the dawn of time,” Samuel began patiently. “It was among the first entities the Eidolons created when they began to stitch together the realm that we would inherit. While it is not a god, it is perhaps the most ancient and powerful living being that exists in all the realm... other than the Eidolons.”
“Great,” Drake said. “That would have been good to know a few weeks ago.”
“Yet the silverwood is also absorbed in its own affairs, affairs that stretch across a time scale that is quite difficult for us to imagine,” Samuel continued patiently. “It shows little interest in mortal affairs. We are creatures whose lives, to it, pass in the blink of an eye.”
“Does it even have eyes?” Drake asked. A tree with eyes would be creepy.
“It does not,” Samuel clarified calmly, “nor does it have a mouth, ears, or any other features that would allow communication as we understand communication. It is also far more than a single tree.”
“Right, that was obvious from the giant forest surrounding my manor.”
“While the core of the silverwood grows in a glade in the center of the forest, you could think of that like the heart, or brain, of a larger entity. The body of the silverwood is the entirety of the forest. Both the silverwood, as in the central tree, and the silverwood, as in the forest, are different pieces of the same entity.”
Drake remembered his earlier conversations about how they might expand the manor to create a small town for others. “Which is why if we clear a bunch of silverwood trees, we’re... like you said. Clipping its fingernails. And we only do that with its permission.”
“Clipping fingernails is as good a metaphor as any,” Samuel agreed. “Also, as to your question regarding why we have not discussed this matter until today, that is because it was not pertinent. Some Lords Gloomwood go their entire lives without interacting with the silverwood. It exists on a scale of time that makes our own lives inconsequential.”
“So how do we ask it questions, then?” Drake pressed. “And why?”
“We speak directly to the tree, however, we are only allowed one question every twenty-three years. That is one aspect of our pact with the ancient tree. In those rare cases where the silverwood chooses to interact with mortals, it simply touches our minds. There, like a seed being planted in fertile soil, it places the thoughts it wishes to convey.”
“I wouldn’t want an ancient tree planting thoughts in my head, so I can see why we don’t hang out much.” Drake considered Samuel’s history lesson. “And if we can only ask it a question every twenty-three years, I also see why Felix is so keen to ask it something. But in cases where we can ask it questions, what kind of questions do we ask?”
“Anything,” Lydia said reverently. “The silverwood is so ancient and immense that it has likely forgotten more than even the most learned of scholars in Korhaurbauten knows. So the opportunity to ask a question of the silverwood, which comes along only once every twenty-three years, offers Lord Gloomwood the chance to gain knowledge that has been lost for centuries. To learn what no one in the entire realm knows.”
“Got it,” Drake agreed. “That certainly sounds like a hell of a bargaining chip.” Drake frowned. “It’s also a much bigger ask than I expected. After I’d already saved Westin, saved Felix’s father, and generally forgiven all the times Lord Proudglade tried to kill me, I’d expected them to be more open to a truce.”
“Felix’s request to ask a question of the silverwood is likely only his opening offer,” Marissa said patiently. “One never opens a negotiation by asking for one what wants. Instead, one starts it—”
“—by asking for far more than you expect, and then letting yourself get bargained down to what you actually want,” Drake finished. “All right, Mom. I can see that. Just the fact that Felix is willing to call a truce is a good thing. At least he’s willing to bargain now.”
His mother smiled proudly. “Of course, Lord Gloomwood.”
It was still so weird to have his mother talk to him this way. Like he was her superior. He was, in the ranks of manor lords, but he doubted he’d ever actually feel that way. Still, at least he didn’t have to worry about her crying over his empty grave back on Earth.
He looked back to Samuel. “So given we live such tiny lives in comparison to the silverwood, I imagine it doesn’t think much of us, does it? Mortals, I mean.”
“It is not a matter of thinking much or less of us, Lord Gloomwood,” Samuel said. “It is simply that it rarely thinks of us at all.”
“Right,” Drake agreed.
“This is not malice,” Samuel continued. “It is simply a difference in perspective.”
“How’s that?”
“Try to imagine how an ancient and powerful being that has lived longer than one hundred thousand of our lives sees this world. How it might regard those who live and die in what, for it, is the space of a few breaths. Do you often consider the affairs of the fly that lands upon your carriage? So it is with the silverwood.”
“So we’re flies to it.”
“In the sense of our lifespans and the effect we have on it... yes. We come into this world, grow to adulthood, and die in less time than it takes the silverwood to grow a new root.”
“So here’s what I want to know now,” Drake said. “When was the last time someone asked it a question?”
“Lord Crow was the last Lord Gloomwood to ask a question of the silverwood.”
“When?”
“He did so approximately two years before you arrived.”
“And what was that question?”
“I do not know. He did not share the question, or its answer, with me.”
Drake sighed. “I’ll say it once more. Fuck Lord Crow.”
Marissa watched him with a hint of consternation. “I wish you would not curse so often.”
“It’s how I cope,” Drake reminded her. “Some people play racquetball or squeeze stress toys. Me? I curse. It’s how I deal with all the fuckery involved in being a manor lord.” He paused as he did the math inside his head and realized something. “You said Lord Crow asked it a question two years ago. I assumed he asked as soon as he could?”
Samuel visibly hesitated. “That is correct, Lord Gloomwood.”
“So that means...” Drake looked at his mother. “The last time someone asked the silverwood a question before Crow would have been about twenty-five years ago.” He was, finally, beginning to suspect why his mother had been so cagey about the circumstances that led to her fleeing with him in her womb twenty-five years ago. “Was that you?”
“Yes,” Marissa said quietly. “Before Lord Crow, I was the last Lord Gloomwood to ask a question of the silverwood.”
“And shortly after that, your battle maid murdered your fiancé, Lord Proudglade. And then you fled to Earth to raise me in exile.” Drake breathed. “Holy fuck, Mom. That’s something you should have led with when you returned.”
“I dare not speak of those circumstances,” Marissa reminded him calmly. “I know you want answers. Know I wish to give them. I would simply ask that you wait a few more days until I can answer all your questions in the manor. There, I know we will not be overheard.”
“And you’ll answer Samuel’s and Lydia’s questions too,” Drake added.
Samuel looked at Marissa. “Lady Gloomwood, I would never—”
“I would,” Drake interrupted. “You’re my successor, Samuel. Lydia is my steward. If there’s some dark event from Mom’s past that’s going to direct my future actions or finally bite me in the ass, I want everyone knowing everything about it so we’re all on the same page.” He glanced at his mother. “Is that going to be a problem?”
“No.” Marissa offered a soft smile. “In this case, I don’t think it will be a problem at all.”
“Good,” Drake said. “So we’ll pick this discussion back up four days from now.”
