Minor note here before I start. Mom got me the drver's book and they're going to take me to take the test for my permit in 2 weeks. Yipes!!! Aren't they rushing this?? They said, "You're turning 16 in 2 months. It's about time you learned to drive!" Aaahh!!!

__________________________________________

                “No!” came the shout from behind the closed door. “I must speak with Bian personally!” More muted voices followed along with another stream of protests. Finally, as Bian had known would happen, the door opened and his sentry entered.

                “My lord,” he said, “there is a man here asking if you will grant him audience.” He looked back over his shoulder. “He says it’s urgent.”

                Bian barely acknowledged the man as he freed one hand from his leg of ham to wave admittance. The sentry nodded and let the eager man behind him pass through. Then Bian looked up. The man was a soldier from his infantry. He probably was coming with news about the raging and unexpected battle ensuing in the Gespenst Mountains against Imre. It had been all too easy to start the confrontation. Bian already had spies watching places near where they suspected Imre to be, and the Finsters knew he was there. All Bian had to do was push a little, poke a little pressure point, and it was on.

                “Well,” Bian prompted, “speak if you have a tongue. Otherwise leave me in peace.”

                The travel-worn soldier needed no further permission. “I come with news from Kapitän Karl. He sends me to tell you that the Finsters have beaten us back. If we are to succeed, we’ll need reinforcements.”

                A mirth-filled chuckle rolled from across the table where Bian sat. He whipped his head around to his advisor with a glare. “You find something amusing, Geert?” he asked.

                Geert shrugged indifferently and picked at the bright flesh of an apple. The grin didn’t leave his face. “I told you that the Finsters were more than what they seemed. You underestimated them.”

                Bian contained the anger welling up inside of him. He had no argument. Cracking the bone in his hand in half, he turned back to the messenger. “Has Imre himself engaged in the fighting since my visit?”

                “Yes my lord, but only a few times.” The man’s eyes glimmered now with reluctant admiration of his enemy. “He is an amazing swordsman, sometimes fighting with two swords at once.”

He needn’t have told Bian this. Bian had been to the rocky crag in the mountainside where Imre took his stand. He had seen the young man in battle. It was an interesting if not impressive sight. His techniques reflected the limited training Bian knew he had gotten from his parents, the quirks of the Finsters, and strange motions that made planning defense against him difficult. He had a style of his own. Bian had seen Imre several times before in the younger man’s childhood, and a small number of times since. He remembered clearly his trip to his small army’s encampment two weeks before when he had looked up out of his carriage and seen Imre standing alone on the rocks. Bian had almost called a halt. Imre had stood, his long, yellow hair waving in the frolicking wind, glowering at his adversary. The short sword in his hand had remained idle. His face, Bian huffed as he remembered, had been searching and curious with the ever present touch of madness that Bian knew he was responsible for placing there.

“You shall have your reinforcements. Tell Leonard down below. He’ll have people sent within three days.” The messenger bowed gratefully and left the room in a hurry.

When he was gone, Bian dropped his meat on his plate forcefully. Geert’s mouth twitched as Bian stood. “Lost your appetite?” he taunted.

Bian shook his head disdainfully. “You are my ultimate thorn,” he growled.

Geert tossed his apple up into the air and caught it again as it fell. He stood and followed Bian out into the garden. When Bian stopped in front of him, gazing into the depth of a black rose, Geert halted, rubbing the taut flesh of his fruit softly. Bian spoke quietly.

“The metall shipment hasn’t come in yet from last month, and there are complaints from the overseers. The Feuer are becoming rebellious,” said Bian quietly.

Geert frowned. This was his area of proficiency. He managed the income from the metall mines. “How do you know this?” he asked.

Bian reached into a deep pocket of his clothing and pulled out a piece of thick paper. “The reports. They came in this morning.”

Geert snatched the paper from Bian. “Those are supposed to come directly to me! You keep out of this project, Bian. You agreed to let me handle this!”

Bian plucked the rose and whirled around. “No, I wont!” he shouted. “You seem to forget, repeatedly, that you work for me. You are not equal to me, nor do I dangle under your command.” He threw the flower at Geert’s feet and stomped on it. “I agreed to let you have control of the metall shipments and storage. It doesn’t mean that I can’t check up on you every now and then.” He moved in closer to the other man’s face. “I’ve done my research. Every shipping in the last few months has reported fifteen percent more metall than what has been put in storage for those months. Where is it?”

Geert was silent and breathed deeply once. He stared into Bian’s eyes and tried to hide a troubled look. Bian nodded. Placing his first two fingers in the small crevice beneath Geert’s throat, he stated menacingly, “One way or another I will find the metall. If you have anything to do with its disappearance, it would be best for you to come to me with it. Because if I find out by myself that you’re involved,” Bian paused and stood up straight. Without finishing his sentence, he said, “I don’t take kindly to traitors.” Bian shook his head and started walking away.

Geert, highly discomposed, reached up to his temple then looked at his slick fingers. Sweating? He dug his fingernails into the flawless flesh of his apple and let out a groan. He wheeled around. Bian was still walking. His head was bowed and his shoulders thrust forward in meditative thought. He had had a lot on his mind lately. It would be very bad to try and lie to him.  “I know where it is,” Geert said a little too loud.

Bian stopped and turned with a puckered brow. Geert heaved a breath. “I – I’ve been conducting experiments with the substance. The things it can be used for are astounding. The Försters have no idea! It’s an advantage we can use against them.”

Bian glared, skeptical. “Then why didn’t you told me about this sooner?” he asked.

“I was going to tell you,” Geert said after an unconvincing hesitation. “I was waiting until I was sure about my hypothesis. I finished the construction only yesterday. I was looking for an opportunity to test it.”

“I want to see this construction.”

Geert grimaced. “I can arrange for your visit first thing next week when –”

“Tomorrow,” interrupted Bian. “I will see it tomorrow. Is there a problem with that?”

Geert took a deep, shuddering breath. “No problem.”

“Good. Tomorrow then.” The corrupt lord advanced toward the door of his palace and didn’t look back at his cringing advisor.

Geert actually stared after Bian until the door blocked his view. Muttering curses under his breath, he looked down at the apple that was still in his hand. The five fresh nail marks gave it a maimed and sad look. He curled his lip at the abused fruit and, with his full force, launched it across the garden. Geert stormed off to make such preparations as he could for the following morning, not bothering to watch where his rejected apple fell.