The conversation stopped abruptly as I entered the room. Lord Rothchild was stretched on a low couch, loosely clasping a goblet of mead. He had an easy, friendly manner and sipped the mead often. His sandy hair and sparkling, blue eyes complemented a pristine blue tunic that had likely never known a crease. A sly, lopsided grin spread across his boyish face.
To actually be in Lord Rothchild's presence was thrilling, and I felt a little dizzy at first. The man radiated charisma and seemed to be the embodiment of every noble trait.
He bade me to sit on a high stool in the center of the room, and the interview abruptly began.
The two quizzed me for almost two and a half hours. Lord Rothchild asked me simple task-related questions. Did I know how to read and write? Could I demonstrate my knowledge of courtly etiquette?
Devareaux contrived strange scenarios for me to work through. If Lord Rothchild spilled a spot of soup on his shirt and was unaware of it, how would I handle the situation? What was the proper thing to tell a foreign dignitary if Lord Rothchild was unavailable?
I answered all the questions as best I could and must have impressed them. They asked me to leave the room for a time so they could discuss my performance. When I returned, Lord Rothchild stood up and offered me his hand.
"It's my pleasure to appoint you to the honored position of interim Regal Overseer, " he said, as if speaking at an official gathering, "and I wish to welcome you to the royal court with all the honors and privileges thus conferred. You shall perform all the tasks required of this noble position for a period of one month, after which your performance will be evaluated. If your performance pleases me, you shall stay on permanently." We shook hands, and the lord excused himself to attend to important affairs.
Devareaux took me aside as Lord Rothchild left the room.
"Son, I want to explain a few things to you," he said, getting right to the point. "The regent is a high-maintenance man. I expect you to fulfill his every need in a timely and respectful manner. But that's just the beginning. Lord Rothchild loves the people of Kjeldor, and he expects them to love him back. His untainted public image is very important to him, and it's up to you to see that it stays that way. Let me be perfectly clear about this," he said, pronouncing each word carefully, as dark clouds gathered across his face. "The price of failure is high, especially for a young man like yourself with his whole life ahead of him."
It began to dawn on me that maybe I was in over my head.
The next day I arrived at the palace gate at the appointed time with my possessions in hand and waited for Duke Devareaux to lead me to my quarters.
On either side of the gates stood a soldier of the Royal Guard, sworn to protect Lord Rothchild from harm. As merchants, servants, cooks, and carpenters passed through the gates, the guards made note of who came and went and inspected their wares. Other guards patrolled the outer wall high above, but in general, the atmosphere was relaxed. Lord Rothchild could afford this lax security, because there was not a soul in Jornstad who had not prospered under his reign.
My quarters were located in an area adjoining the royal palace. It was an area that was restricted to most but to which I was to have free access because of my duties. The quarters were comfortable but by no means extravagant. With stone walls and only one window, it tended to be a bit dark most of the day.
I stashed my belongings quickly and made my way to the meeting hall, where I was to convene with Duke Devareaux for a briefing.
"The task before you will not be an easy one," he said sternly. "I hope you're up to it. You were selected because you are the brightest in your class and a quick thinker.
"Things will not always be the way you expect them to be, but your job will be to always put Lord Rothchild first. If he stumbles, you are to make sure he does not fall. If he should make a mistake, you are to see that it is corrected."
He reviewed my duties and his expectations. He stressed the importance of the job I was undertaking. Kjeldor's enemies were forever looking to our borders for a sign of weakness. Our leader was more than a symbol of our freedom; he was the foundation of our freedom.
He explained to me the politics of the court, as well. The king and his wife, Lady Rothchild, were not on the best of terms. He warned me that Lord Rothchild was what the duke referred to as a "free spirit," and that didn't sit too well with Lady Rothchild.
It was a politically motivated marriage: a Kjeldoran king and a Balduvian queen-just the thing to bring peace to the warring factions. It worked for a time, too. The war had moved off the battlefield and onto the domestic front. The sides had, for a while, ceased to be represented by wily generals and battle-scarred troops and instead had been traded for a pair of bickering spouses.
Although the court tried to portray the royal couple as close, the cold, political nature of the marriage was common knowledge. She was unpleasant to look at and not well liked, but even if she'd been the fairest creature in all of Terisiare, all the women of Kjeldor would have hated her for envy.
After the conversation, I set out on my own, armed with Lord Rothchild's official schedule. I headed to the archery range, where I'd been told Lord Rothchild would be practicing until late afternoon. The range was deserted, so I wandered the palace grounds trying to find him. I acquainted myself with my new surroundings as I walked, asking the servants and gardeners I encountered if they'd seen Lord Rothchild.
By late morning, I at last caught up with Lord Rothchild. He was sitting on a box in the royal distillery, sampling the various spirits.
He noticed me immediately. "Come hither, young Finroy," he called. "Sit with me and share the solace of a smooth port wine."
"Yes, Your Highness," I answered, as I pulled up a crate and sat with the most revered man in all Kjeldor. Although my nerves were rattled by the presence of His Majesty, his easy way helped to temper my nervousness.
"I'm sampling a variety of blends for my upcoming meeting with Lord Barsus of Ojum," he said gesturing to four half-empty bottles beside him. "It's so important to have the right beverages at meetings between leaders. The proper drink can lubricate the political machinery. That's the secret of diplomacy.
"The Balduvian's bloodthirsty urges could never have been subdued with a fine wine such as this. A harsh people like that require a harsh drink-a drink with savagery and bite, the kind of drink that hacks at your tongue and leaves you for dead. Once you understand the people, it becomes plain that only cackleberry gin is right for ones such as they. Serve it at negotiations, and you are bound to earn their respect."
I sat with him for hours as he expounded his theories of diplomacy through alcohol. Lord Rothchild could engage a listener on just about any topic.
In the days that followed, I discovered that Lord Rothchild's official schedule was to be interpreted loosely, and he was most often in the place you least expected him to be. Searches would often yield surprising, or occasionally embarrassing, results. He could often be found in the royal gardens deflowering one of Lady Rothchild's many handmaids or rolling in the hay with the stablemaster's daughter.
If he wasn't in either of those two places, a trail of empty bottles usually led the way. I began to wonder that with all of Lord Rothchild's "commitments, " he managed to find time to rule. Devareaux always seemed to be at the events of state, though, to cover for him.
The best course of action seemed to be to leave Lord Rothchild to his own affairs, but my job wasn't any easier because of it. If Lady Rothchild wanted to take a stroll through the gardens at the wrong time, it could inspire a domestic incident. I had to make sure that didn't happen.