The Shining Wyrm

12.7

They were welcomed as a group, all the lords of the entourage, but this time Father and Jewel were welcomed first among them. Even ahead of the generals!

And after that they were swept into the feasting hall.

But the seating had been rearranged from last time.

On the Countess’ right an entire half of the table had been set aside for Jewel (and Jaksa the Red).

To the Countess’ left, past the still notably empty chair, Father, Mother, Alexander and Count Fiebron were seated to occupy the other places of honor at the Countess’ table.

The other two tables were filled out with both those she remembered from the original War Council, as well as lords Jewel did not recognize.

Neither from the war itself or any other meeting.

Among them was Smithson and to his left, Tsulogothulan. He looked incredibly nervous but Jewel trusted her friend to keep her squire safe.

Judging by their muttering, these newcomers also had never heard from their peers about Jewel and many were whispering conspiratorially to one another.

Subtly enough that Jewel supposed they expected she could not hear them.

If they even thought she could understand.

Was Jewel going to have to correct every single person in all of Viznove of her personhood on the first meeting?

No, she’d not had to do that for any of the Gryphon Riders.

But these Lords and Ladies?

Probably.

Ironically, the only one of the nobility she recognized that had not been present for her last visit was Count Thurzó and beside him, a young woman in finery Jewel’s nose told her was his daughter.

She seemed shaken, fear still hanging on her but there was relief washing that away and she was putting on a brave face.

Jewel felt awkward put up here in such a place of prominence, it made the scale of her even harder to hide, and left precious little room for her wings if something embarrassing happened.

At least the smell from the kitchens promised that there would be Jewel’s favorite Saffron-glazed pigs for the feast. Although for some reason they were not being cooked over the hearths in the center of the hall.

The Countess Bathory stood tall and everyone stilled to silence.

“My Vassals, today we celebrate victory. But more than that we celebrate peace made once more with our neighbors and the Realm.”

She nodded to Thurzó with that before continuing her speech. Smiling benevolently in a way Jewel was still mastering under Mother’s tutelage.

“My Honor has been restored, Your safety as my vassals is assured and for the misunderstanding on my part which spurred the Good Count Thurzó to his foolish claims, I have chosen to forgive the duly owed recompense Arva owed to Viznove.”

A few of the lords and ladies that had not even been privy to the first war council for lack of the Countess’ trust muttered about that.

Displeased that spoils promised from the Countess’ enemies were not going to pass in even a small portion to them.

Spoils they had not even been there to claim.

But the Countess continued, and seemed especially interested in where the mutters were coming from, despite them being well below what should have been audible to her.

“To meet all obligations and promises made before our armies mustered, I will open my own coffers to pay that due to those so owed, as had been prior arranged. Fear not: none of you will go hungry this winter.”

She spoke of the very idea of anyone here going hungry with a tone of jest that made all laugh, although Jewel noted that unlike with her Father making such jests, there was not an honest chuckle among them.

Though some faked it better than others.

Count Thurzó and his daughter did not even deign to try at laughter, but Jewel thought that to be expected.

The Countess’ eyes turned to Jewel and then her face followed, bringing that smile bright and white between red lips to bear.

“Furthermore, there are honors to bestow, for the peasants there will be an announcement tomorrow and a festival made of this going on the next ten days, but as my esteemed vassals the news will reach your ears first, of course.”

Another chuckle, this one more honest sounding, though Jewel did not understand the joke.

“For honorable action in arms acting in my name and as a pivotal strike in the victory of the war, I bestow upon the House of Rochford the lands south of their present holdings, to include the Temple of the Silver Lady’s vassalage and all surrounding hamlets.”

Father bowed in thanks, but the Countess was not looking towards him.

She was still smiling with eyes only for Jewel, and so the Wyrm bowed as well low and respectfully for the sake of her family.

That was a mighty sum to add to the wealth of Rochford.

But the Countess was not finished.

“Furthermore, I elevate the title of Shining Wyrm of Viznove so held by the Lady Jewel of Rochford to one of land holdings to be no less than a full manor. And more at the discretion of and to be provided by her Father and Liege Jonathan the Third of House Rochford, Lord Baron of Rochford.”

That was also not unexpected and better than Mother and Father had feared.

Finally she turned from Jewel, spinning in place and sweeping all the room with her gaze, settling on Father who duly gave his bow of acknowledgement.

There were some very quiet murmurs. Some upset, again from those that had not gone to war as lords in the army.

Jewel turned her gaze to fix one of the muttering lord’s neighbors that she did know and was already fixed to watching the wyrm as soon as she moved. Jewel gave a subtle shift of her brows towards the conniver next to him.

Which got the muttering lady a hard elbow in the side and then a hissed whisper and pointed glance Jewel’s way.

Jewel smiled and nodded in acknowledgement to the rapidly paling face of the stranger.

Then her attention was drawn as the Countess Bathory was turning from Father to address all the hall before them.

“Furthermore, today I am announcing that in recognition of her contributions to the rightful defense of my honor, the safety of Viznove and to forever bind our families into the future, the Shining Wyrm of Viznove, Lady Jewel of Rochford as a landed lady of good standing in the court is hereby betrothed to my only surviving son and youngest child, Paul Nádasdy.”

Jewel’s thoughts stalled out entirely, all the world falling away to focus on the singular figure of the Countess Bathory.

Focusing on every muscle of her skin, every breath of her body, the delighted smile which suddenly reminded her far too much of Fizzbunches and his insufferable feline pride.

“To be married when my son and heir of my late husband’s titles is of the proper age of sixteen.”

The Countess was utterly calm, her heart beat was slow and steady pushing blood through her veins, her eyes were bright and her skin seemed healthy and unweathered. But Jewel could smell age and rot on the Countess.

With so much attention drawn to the single woman it seemed blatantly obvious.

She could taste stress and pain.

But above all else, there was a heat of triumph and exultant delight. Of a victory stronger and fiercer than any matter of armies or arms.

Jewel could not even feel what her Father or mother was doing so intensely was her focus, and the words didn't end! They seemed like an entombing mountain of stone pouring in from all sides.

“Furthermore, as the sole inheritor of the lands held by the house of Bathory, I name her my heir to assume all my duties, titles entrusted and vassalages owed to my name raising her family name to join mine, as both Jewel of Bathory and Rochford.”

And with that the Countess sat back, to shocked silence, her lips peeling back in such a wide and delighted grin Jewel wondered which of them was truly more a beast then the other.

Finally the room came into focus, the scents of the countess and her terrifying triumph fading beneath the plate of saffron glazed pork set before Jewel. An entire sow had been roasted and set on her side of the table for Jewel alone.

Father and Mother looked strained, their lips and mouths smiled and they made thankful noises to the countess’ announcement but they were both pained and panicked in their eyes and the stink of their sweat.

Alexander was at least thankfully ignorant and unconcerned, happy for Jewel on all the praise she was awarded.

Far more distracted by his own mere plate of saffron glazed pig.

Jewel could not stop herself from whispering to the Countess across Jaksa the Red’s head.

The wizard seemed content to ignore her and just dig into his meal at least.

“Why? Why would you do this?”

To which the countess turned to Jewel with the sweetest smile. Lips moving as if they were discussing something pleasant but words so soft that none save perhaps Father might hear other than Jewel (and Jaksa).

“My dear now-daughter, betrothed to my son and heir apparent. With this stroke I have assured either that not one fool in the realm will dare to see me perish. Or that I will have delivered to them a force of such intractable threat and undeniable danger that my vengeance will be assured upon them no matter what you do with my titles.”

She took a slow bite of a slice of ham and made delighted little mumbling noises of joy that Jewel suspected had nothing to do with the quality of the meat.

“Jaksa the Red does his best and the rituals are as invigorating as ever. But I still grow old, dear daughter. I grow old and am, for all their tales, mortal. But you, my Shining Wyrm? You are a dragon, you are immortal! In Rochford? Unlanded? You might be controlled, a chained beast of war in all but name. A weapon for whoever holds your family.”

Another slow bite of teeth sinking into flesh, chewing, tongue licking lips and then a swallow of a throat.

Jewel’s entire world felt pulled into just that mouth and its chewing.

Those lips shaping the words of her future like an oracle.

“But now? In a trifle of a battle and a single speech I have made you a Tyrant Wyrm in truth. And all that holds you back from usurping all the power owed you in that is me and my frail, old, oh so fragile mortal life.”

That too clear glass of a chalice was raised and deep red wine that smelled strongly of the barrel it had been aged in. It passed those lips and the throat swallowed hard.

Tongue licking over teeth in relish.

“Welcome to my family, dear daughter. It would be nice if you treat my son well, he’s hardly older than you. But it’s not important. Be cruel to him, oh wyrm, if that is your fancy.”

Jewel had not even known Countess Bathory had children before today, she had seen none of them or heard of them until this very moment! And yet she felt affronted and horrified to hear how little their mother seemed to care for them.

“Allow him to sire a child with a concubine, or not as is your won’t. Have him bed you if you so desire, perhaps some wyrmish sorcery could even beget some offspring there. I care not. It is your business. My daughters already continue my blood fine enough for me. And my late husband’s name can die with him for setting Thurzó upon me.”

Jewel could only stare dumbfounded at the thing before her, that held allegiance of her family, that was owed at least until her death allegiance from Jewel.

That had set them to war.

That tossed her children aside in a scheme.

That had apparently done something so horrible to a man’s daughter that he thought her dead?

All of that wrapped up into a woman just there next to Jewel.

A self-stated fragile, mortal woman.

“Now then betrothed to my son, Shining Wyrm of Viznove, my beautiful heir, it would be poor manners if you did not eat at a feast held in your honor.”

The command was there, laced as harshly as before when last Jewel had heard it.

And once again Jewel was forced to eat something that, until this day, she had truly adored.

But the wyrm was not sure that she would ever be able to stand the taste or scent of saffron again.

Not after this.