Viscount's Rise

“They should be dumping them any time now.” Braydon had had his carriage driver move slower on purpose so that they would not pass by his brother. He had waited far too long to get at George for him to slip away for such a mundane reason.

“Someone’s eager.” Nela looked at him. It was rare for Braydon to get fired up about killing someone who couldn’t fight back. He only seemed remotely interested when it was somebody that he hated or was politically expedient to remove. She could quite clearly put George Fiton in the first category.

“My hatred of my brother has had a long time to fester.” He was not going to shy away from the fact.

“And you don’t want to keep him around to gloat? He is barred from inheriting in Fiveria, so it is not like he is a political threat.” Nela was surprised that Braydon didn’t want to go like for like with how he had described George to her.

“It may be fun to annoy someone as insufferable as him but I don’t want to leave him to chance. Sam would find a way to make use of him, even if he was sitting in the King’s most secure dungeon. It might just take him a bit longer.” Braydon would have been more than happy to keep George around as a prisoner for his amusement if he didn’t have another brother to deal with. He could already imagine the runt mocking public condemnations of his poor treatment of family.

“They are just up ahead, Sire.” Rhydian said from the front of the carriage. 

“So other than being a general ass and your father’s favourite, what did he do to you?” Nela had to ask. She did not think Braydon so unreasonable to go after his elder brother so unerringly purely because of his hatred. Even the possibility of Sam taking advantage would not explain the doggedness of Braydon even trying to pull in a favour from the King.

“As the firstborn, he was just as worried about me trying to take his place as my father was. Whilst I hate my father out of the neglect and the way he treated my mother, he never tried to get me maimed or killed.” Braydon said as he tapped the scar on his face. Whilst true that he had gotten it during a scuffle with ruffians, they hadn’t chosen to try and stab him in the head without reason. No street rat would want the attention of the nobility without the backing of another noble.

“And you can prove that?” Nela asked. Not because she doubted that Braydon was telling the truth. It was one thing for a plot to fail, not being able to deny it was you who ordered it carried out.

“I could and I brought it up with my father. What do you think happened?” Braydon’s face said it all. 

“He dismissed you?” If she had to guess, Nela could see his father siding with his favourite son.

“He tossed the note with a drawing of my face, bearing the Fiton seal, directly into a fire. And asked ‘What plot?’.” He learnt quickly not to even try going to his father even in the most serious of matters.

“Lovely man.” Nela was somehow not surprised that such a thing had happened. Their conversation ended as the carriage pulled to a stop alongside a large group of men being systematically unbound by the troops that had marched them there.

Once they stepped down, it was not hard to see that all of the former prisoners were staring. After having seen them in the palace and once again when they were being freed, it was not hard for them to guess that he was here for someone. And considering that a good number of them were formerly lords, they had a good guess at who Braydon was there for.

“What are you all dawdling for, get a move on!” An armoured man who was slowly pocketing a handful of coins that Rhydian had given him shouted at the group as if nobody just arrived. 

“You are now free to go, remember that you are not welcome in Boshil anymore.” He immediately went to unbind George who was near to the front of the line waiting to have their bindings removed before he handed him over to Rhydian whilst saying that. He was more than happy to look the other way when it was a group of people that were only being let off because of the King’s mercy.

“Hello George, long time no see.” Braydon greeted his brother as if they were just having a pleasant conversation. He was more than enjoying the pissed glare that he was getting in return. It was rare that their interactions were this way around, having mostly been in reverse before their father died.

“Come here to impress your mistress by playing with the helpless?” George was not so easy to force into despair. Braydon would have been disappointed if he gave up too fast.

“Oh no, this is for all for me. I just don’t mind the audience. Though, I don’t think that most of these people are invited to the show, come along.” Braydon turned around and boarded the carriage once more, Nela having gotten on when he was talking to George. He was almost certain that his brother would still be mocking him as his head was cut off. Not that that would stop him, it would just be less entertaining. 

“What? Inviting me in are we, how polite.” George commented before Rhydian held him where he was.

“You are walking in front.” Whilst Rhydian didn’t hold the same hatred of George that Braydon did, it did not mean that he liked the man. There was a reason why he was only one of two knights that followed Braydon to Cliforge. Whilst the others might have liked Braydon they didn’t dislike George. Rhydian had not held a fond opinion of him since he was old enough to mistreat Braydon.

“Ingrate.” George always liked to have the final word. Rhydian just rolled his eyes, he had never served George and his ties to Isaac were severed when the man died. There was nothing ungrateful about him choosing to serve Braydon. And he was all the more glad for it.

Darkwood

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