The Cerberus Rebellion (A Griffins & Gunpowder Novel) Read Free Page A

Duchy, represented by the golden hammer on gray of House Croutcher in the far western corner of the nation.
    Smaller shields marked the eleven earls of Ansgar, two east of Aetheston and nine to the west. Shields smaller still marked the forty-two baronies that further divided the rest of the nation. He was not as familiar with the baronies as he was with the earldoms and duchies, but then he rarely had the occasion to deal with many of them.
    He had, of course, met every one of his sworn nobles at his coronation, or their ascension, but the lesser nobles had smaller estates to care for and could scarcely afford frequent journeys to the capital to pay homage to their king.
    Eadric was still focused on the map when the door groaned open and his council entered.
    “Your Majesty.” Lord Alden Hanley, Earl of Hamilton, was a tall, slender man who leaned heavily on an ebony cane as he walked. Gray colored his brown hair and full beard, but his brown eyes were still sharp and careful.
    Before Eadric's ascension to the throne of Ansgar, Alden had betrothed his oldest daughter to the Crown Prince. The move had established the earl as a close advisor to the new king when Eadric had come to power and the King gave extra weight to his opinion.
    “Lord Hanley.” Eadric clasped the man's hands and inclined his head to his father by law.
    “Your Highness, you are looking well today,” Lord William Richards said as he bowed.
    Baron Saxon had long been one of Eadric's closest advisors. He had been brought to court at the age of five by his father to learn the ways of the capital. William and Eadric had been tutored by the same teachers, taught of swords by the same master at arms, and had ascended to their titles at nearly the same time. Eadric had raised him to Lord Councilor as one of his first acts.
    He stood nearly the same height as Eadric, with a similarly athletic build. He was shaved bald, his thin mustache and well-kept red beard the only hint of his hair color.
    “Thank you, William.” Eadric presented his signet ring for his friend to kiss.
    “My King, I see that the sums you have been spending on Dragonsalt have not been in vain,” Lord Peter Wellstone said with a smile. As the Chancellor of Ansgar it was his responsibility to keep the kingdom's books and accounts.
    He was the youngest man in the room, only just into his twenty-fifth year. He had been apprenticed to the last Chancellor, his childless uncle the previous Earl Colby, and had taken to his studies with fervor. He carried a stack of ledgers with him, books filled with figures on the kingdom's incomes, expenses, and coffers. He was a small man and his blue eyes glanced back and forth every so often as if of their own volition.
    “A pinch before bed helps me sleep,” Eadric lied.
    “Your Majesty,” said a lilting, sweet voice.
    Altavius Dohr's accent was less pronounced than it had once been, or so Eadric was told, but it still marked him as one not native to Ansgar’s common tongue.
    The elf was the oldest member of Eadric's council. He was, in fact, the oldest person on this side of the world, at least as far as anyone knew. He had traveled across the Vast Sea twelve hundred years earlier with the first colonists to leave Welos and had served as advisor to every king since Liam the First.
    Altavius' eyes had once been a deep sapphire; they were now a pale blue. His once brilliant red hair was now silver and white and was tucked behind his long, tapered ears. He was hunched with age and leaned heavily on his staff. The apple sized emerald held in the heavy iron setting pulsed gently. Half a dozen heavy amulets hung on golden chains and jeweled rings sat on each finger.
    Eadric's four advisors sat in the leather chairs. Each took a moment to adjust to the thick cushions in their own fashion. Lord Wellstone rested his stack of ledgers on the small table beside him. Altavius leaned his staff against the chair's arm. Lord Hanley hooked his cane on the back of