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November 2, 1815

He locked Anne’s letter in his writing slope—Anne would not want gossip about her father circulating through the offices. It was embarrassment enough being related to him at all. 

Ah, well, one could not choose their relatives, could one? He headed down the innumerable stairs to the lowest level of the Order offices.

By rank and importance, Sir Carew Arnold, the Minister of Keeps, should have rated a moderate-sized, first-floor office along with the Historian and the Scribe. But the need to entertain major dragons consigned him to the courtroom level, lit only by torches and smelling of damp stone and dragon musk. His was one of the largest offices, but only because of the need to accommodate major dragons. The sparse, hard wearing décor demonstrated that practicality. Table, chairs, bookcases, and a desk. Nothing decorative or soft, all echoing utilitarianism at its finest.

Sir Carew welcomed him in and gestured to a seat near the enormous limestone table that dominated the office. The far side of the table ended near a dark dragon tunnel entry—a major dragon could hardly have fit through the doorway the warm-blooded used. Intentional or not, its looming presence dominated the room, reminding all of a major dragon’s power.

“Good day, Sir Frederick. What has brought you today?” The slight man, with his shock of white hair, deceptively mild tone, and hunched shoulders, took a seat near Wentworth. A pair of bookcases behind him bowed with the weight of the journals and ledgers. 

“Thank you for taking time to meet with me. I know you are busy—”

“You seem to be the only one in the Order who believes that.” Sir Carew snorted, a touch of his legendary temper rearing its head. “You are right, I have five meetings scheduled today to hammer out Keep disputes, so please, get to the point quickly.”

So many disputes? Who would have thought? That was a detail the Order clearly preferred to keep discreet. “Of course, I will be as brief as I can. You are already aware of the intricacies of our situation with Kellynch and the new Keep.”

“Painfully aware.” Sir Carew reached back to the bookcase and pulled out a volume without looking. “Give me a moment to look up all the details.” Somehow it seemed like he was only doing that for show, that he would be able to recall it all from the top of his head. 

Wentworth quickly described the situation Anne laid out in her letter.

“That man had the audacity to attempt to cross in to Kellynch’s territory? Pendragon’s breath and bones! Does he have a death wish?” Sir Carew slapped the book and a little cloud of dust rose.

“Not at all. Sir Walter has some firm expectations about what his life should be like.” Wentworth glanced at the ceiling and shook his head.

“He should consider it fortunate that he has a life at all. It is lucky for him that the carriage was diverted away from the estate, and he did not trespass. If you will look here,” Sir Carew shoved the book at Wentworth, his wrinkled finger pointing to several lines in the middle of the page. “The stipend agreement, from which Sir Walter draws his living, clearly states that he is not to trespass on Kellynch’s territory ever again. Doing so will nullify the financial agreement. What is more, you need to make certain your wife understands that offering any financial support to her father also will nullify the agreement.”

Wentworth squinted and stared at the indicated lines. How had he not realized that language was in the estate charter? Not that he objected to having a concrete reason to refuse Sir Walter any favors, but still…

“You were unaware of these stipulations?” Cleary Sir Carew did not approve of Wentworth’s ignorance.

“I was certain I had studied the charter thoroughly.”

“This is not the charter. It is a supplemental document to which the charter refers that sets out the provisions for the living allotted for Sir Walter.” Sir Carew muttered something disagreeable under his breath. “The court should have reviewed it with you.”

“I am quite certain they did not.” Wentworth folded his arms over his chest and met Sir Carew’s glare with one of his own. “I pay a great deal of attention to the language of such orders.”

Sir Carew blinked several times, several thoughts and opinions crossing his face. “I am sure you do. Nonetheless, the language is there. As a consequence of the damage done to the Kellynch estate, Sir Walter can have no material help from anyone or anything connected to Kellynch or his territory.”

Of course, that made sense, however unhelpful it was. “What then of Sir Walter’s current crisis? Cannot the Order assist him in find an alternative living situation?”

“Absolutely not. He is responsible for those arrangements.”

“But the Order set up the situation in Bath. He assumed—”

“He is a self-serving ignoramus, taking for granted anything that he might use to his advantage.  That was a singular event. Since the house has become uninhabitable, we can have our solicitors apply to take back the unused portion of this quarter’s rent, which would give him some funds by which to reestablish himself. But more than that is entirely upon him. Just as it would be for any other man in England.”

“I am not sure either he or his daughter is capable.” Anne had always managed such things for him.

“Forgive my bluntness, but the only reason Sir Walter was provided that living was to maintain control over him and prevent him exposing Blue Order secrets. If it appears he is any danger to the Order because of his inability to manage his own affairs, he will be dealt with, and to put it as delicately as possible, the alternatives are not pleasant to consider. I am afraid all I can suggest is that your wife make clear to him the realities of his situation and what the consequences will be. For our part, all the Order will do is ensure he is carefully monitored. At the first sign he is a danger to us, we will be forced to act. Without hesitation.”

“I see.” It was not the first time Wentworth disliked a command-level response, and it probably would not be the last.

“It might not be the answer you wished, for but there is nothing more in my power to do for it.” The edges of Sir Carew’s voice softened.

“Understood.” Which of course was the right thing to say, but in no way to be understood that he was going to leave Sir Walter to his own devices.

Laconia step-slithered in from the dragon tunnel and sprang to the tabletop. “You are wanted by the Council.” He did not bother to voice the implied order.

“Thank you for your, assistance Sir Carew.” Wentworth stood and bowed. “I should not keep the Council waiting.”

“No, definitely not. I hope you are able to find a satisfactory solution to your wife’s situation. I hope the Order does not need to act on this situation.”

“Of course. Good day.” It was not a good day at all, and it was looking to grow even worse now. Wentworth hurried out.

What do you think Wentworth is going to face from the Council dragons? Tell me in the comments.