Free Wintertide by Michael J. Sullivan Page B

except one. Chadwick is the home to Lord Belstrad whose eldest son, Sir Breckton, is very likely the best knight in Avryn. When I say best, I mean that in every sense of the word. His skill at arms is unmatched as are his talent for tactics and his aptitude for leadership. Unfortunately, he’s also loyal to a fault. He serves Archie Ballentyne and only Archie.”
    Ethelred crossed the room and took a seat by hopping on Saldur’s desk, causing the old man to flinch.
    “I wanted Breckton as my general, but he refuses to obey the chain of command and won’t listen to anyone except Archie. I can’t waste time filtering all my orders through that pissant. So we offered Breckton a prime bit of land and a title, to abandon Ballentyne, but the fool wasn’t interested.”
    “The war is over, or soon will be,” Hadrian pointed out. “You don’t need Breckton anymore.”
    “That is exactly correct,” Saldur said.
    There was something in the detached way he spoke that chilled Hadrian.
    “Even without a war we still need strong men to enforce order,” Ethelred explained. Picking up a glass figurine from Saldur’s desk, he began passing it from hand to hand.
    Saldur’s jaw clenched as his eyes tracked each toss.
    “When Breckton turned us down, Archie threatened to use his knight and the Royalists against us. Can you believe that? He said he would march on Aquesta! He thinks he can challenge me! The little sod—” Ethelred slammed the figurine down on the desk, shattering it. “Oh—sorry, Sauly.”
    Saldur sighed but said nothing.
    “Anyway,” Ethelred went on, dusting off his hands so that bits of glass rained on the desk. “Who could have guessed a knight would turn down an offer to rise to the rank of marquis and command a whole kingdom as his fief? The piss-proud pillock! And what’s he doing it for? Loyalty to Archie Ballentyne. Who hates him. Always has. It’s ridiculous.”
    “Which brings us to why you’re here, Mr. Blackwater,” Saldur said. He used a lace handkerchief to gingerly sweep the broken glass off his desk into a wastebasket. “As much as I would like to take credit for it, this is all Guy’s idea.” Saldur nodded toward the sentinel.
    Guy never changed his wooden stance, remaining at attention as if it was his natural state.
    “Finding you in our courtyard, Guy realized that you can solve our little problem with Sir Breckton.”
    “I’m not following,” Hadrian said.
    Saldur rolled his eyes. “We can’t allow Breckton to reach his army at Drondil Fields. We would be forever at the mercy of Archie. He could dictate any terms so long as Breckton controlled the loyalty of the army.”
    Hadrian’s confusion continued. “And…?”
    Ethelred chuckled. “Poor Sauly, you deal too much in subtlety. This man is a fighter, not a strategist. He needs it spelled out.” Turning to Hadrian, he said, “Breckton is a capable warrior and we had no hope of finding anyone who could defeat him until Guy pointed out that you are the perfect man for the job. To be blunt, we want you to kill Sir Breckton.”
    “The Wintertide tournament will start in just a few days,” Saldur continued. “Breckton is competing in the joust and we want you to battle him and win. His lance will be blunted while yours will have a war point hidden beneath a porcelain shell. When he dies, our problem will be solved.”
    “And exactly why would I agree?”
    “Like the good regent explained,” Guy said, “killing seret is an executable offense.”
    “Plus,” Ethelred put in, “as a token of our appreciation, we will sweeten the deal by paying you one hundred solid gold tenents. What do you say?”
    Hadrian knew he could never murder Breckton. While he had never met the man, he was familiar with Breckton’s younger brother Wesley, who had served with Royce and Hadrian on the Emerald Storm. The young man died in battle, fighting beside them at the Palace of the Four Winds. His sacrificial charge had saved their