CHAPTER THREE:

THE DOINGS OF PIPS AND MITES

Milford’s was a sober but elegant establishment, marked by

tall ceilings, shimmering steel-grey floors and the imposing

black-wood bookshelves that lined its long broad hallways.

Caspian asked the concierge where he might find Sir Hollace and

was directed to the social club’s common room. It was a massive

chamber with four couches, several tables and close to two dozen

chairs. Four wrought iron chandeliers hung from the rafters to

light it.

Caspian spied a long-limbed man lounging upon a couch in

the corner, reading while he absently picked at a stuffed game

hen. He was tall with shoulder length hair and spectacles, older

than him by half a decade. The tattered count knew him well.

Sir Hollace was Duke Jon’s First-Knight, his most trusted

advisor – and the elder brother of his late wife, Ambriel.

Caspian first met Hollace a dozen years beforehand, when Jon

invited him home for break. This was the summer that proceeded

Jon’s fifth year at Oroth’s Imperial Academy – the last before

Caspian’s brother would need to become a fulltime statesman.

Already having plans for the summer, Hollace was only able

to accept Jon’s invitation if could also bring his younger

sister, Ambriel. Jon was quick to agree to these terms, as

Hollace spoke highly of his sister and he was thrilled to

finally have opportunity meet her. It was the best summer

Caspian could remember.

They spent two straight months laughing, singing and

drinking into the wee hours of the morning. There was something

about Hollace and Ambriel that brought out the best in the

brothers, but this was a lifetime ago. The summer ended as all

things must, and Jon returned to Oroth with his guests. The

next time Caspian saw his brother, he and Ambriel were engaged.

Caloth’s First Knight turned when he heard Caspian enter,

self-consciously removed his spectacles and stood. The two men

drew each other into a brotherly hug. More than just closeness,

the embrace revealed a genuine fondness for each other.

Sir Hollace smiled and held Caspian at arm’s length.

“You’re up early. I didn’t expect you for another hour or

two.”

Caspian shrugged. “Woke at the bloody crack of noon and

couldn’t get back to sleep.” He looked around the rich, empty

common room. “So, what you drinking?”

“Nothing yet.”

“Let’s fix that.” Caspian pulled up a chair, spun it

backwards and sat. He raised his nub and whistled. “You there,

lass. Be a dear and fetch us a bottle of Leather. Two. And

two glasses.” Hollace sat as well.

 Caspian watched the serving woman leave. He gave an

approving quirk of his eyebrows and encouraged the knight to

follow. Sir Hollace, oddly shy for his station, pretended not

to have seen her. The tattered count pushed.

“Come on mate. You know it pains me to see you wasting

those bloody good looks of yours. Pretty face, nice firm ass.

What are you waiting for?” Hol looked nervously around the room

and slouched a bit. The count’s badgering was nothing new.

“She’s pretty enough, I guess. Can’t say I got a good look

at her ass though. Besides, I don’t even know her.”

“What?” Caspian was confused. “I was talking about you.

And what does not knowing her have to do with anything?” The

tattered count was at a loss. “Nothing wrong with a little

bumpkin between strangers. Hell, if you can get away with it, I

wouldn’t even ask her bloody name. Makes it dirtier.”

Sir Hollace tried to hush the count. He pulled at his

collar, coughed and stared nervously toward the kitchen. “Thank

you for your concern, Cas. Really. But I think I am doing

alright.”

“That’s the bloody problem, Hol. You’re a smart, friendly

bloke, with everything going for you. You’ve the rest of your

life to be doing ‘alright’. You’re a soldier. Start bleeding

acting like one. These are your conquering years.”

 Sir Hollace whispered sharply. “I also have a lot less

free time than you, Caspian, and even less room for error.”

“If you say so.” He scrunched his brow. Another thought

was slowly developing, but he shrugged his shoulders and

dismissed it. He had neither the conviction nor attention span

to keep his crusades going for very long.

“Whatever. Can’t knock a bloke for trying.” The tattered

count took out a cigar and lit it with a candle. “So, how’d you

find me?”

Sir Hollace laughed. He was happy to move things forward.

“You’re a lot of things, Caspian, none of them inconspicuous.”

Caspian smirked.

“Can’t help it mate. It’s my subjects. They love me!”

“Yes, I’ve heard. The People’s Count.”

“Is that what they’re calling me?” A dreamy smile. “It

doesn’t address my air of danger, but I like it.” Caspian

slapped the table.

Sir Hollace missed him. Caspian’s exuberance reminded him

of happier times in the O’Donnell household. Duke Jon had long

contended that his brother left home to run away from an affair

with his wife, but Hollace did not believe things had gone that

far. He believe that the tattered count had left to keep the

peace, and he dreaded how things would unfold, now that Duke

Byron had passed.

 “Nice to see you on the sticky side of town, Hol.” Caspian

scratched himself. “Let me show you around and introduce you to

folk. I’ll get a stink on your beacon that’ll last a week.”

Sir Hollace shuttered and shook off the thought.

“Thank you Caspian, but no. I came to Hurley for a reason.

We need to talk.” Their conversation was interrupted by the

return of the serving woman. She carried a tray containing two

bottles and cups.

“Perfect timing,” Caspian poured some coin upon the table.

“A little for the bottles and a little for you.” The tattered

count gave the barmaid a playful pat on the ass and sent her on

her way.

He took one of the bottles into his hand, removed the cork

with his teeth and poured two glasses – pushing one to his old

friend. Caspian toasted the Orange Run. This was a thousand

mile test of seamanship, hosted by Caloth. The knight and count

took their shots and slammed their glasses upon the table.

Caspian answered this by pouring two more glasses of the

thick brown liquor. He raised his glass a second time and

toasted the north winds. Again Sir Hollace joined him and again

they slammed their glasses upon the table.

Caspian was pouring a third round when Hollace interrupted.

“Caspian, we need to talk.” The tattered count sighed and

returned his glass to the table.

 “Yes, yes. My brother. What’s that tossbag want now?”

Sir Hollace reprimanded him sternly. “Caspian!”

The tattered count stopped, smiled and tilted his head in

anticipation.

“He is your brother and duke.”

“And born to both,” he retorted. “So enough with the

cooing and tossing of small clothes.”

Sir Hollace began to speak, but stopped. He took a hard,

obvious swallow and covered his mouth with one hand, while

looking at the fingers of the other. Caspian used the moment to

finish his drink. When Sir Hollace next raised his head, his

face betrayed a mixture of sympathy and guilt.

“Your brother loves you Caspian. You just need to give him

time. The last few years have been tough on him. They’ve been

tough on all of us.” He tried to smile. “Have you looked at

yourself recently?”

Caspian leaned back, as if to dodge the comment. He stood

and gave himself a biased, defensive appraisal. “Of course I

bloody look at myself.” He tugged nervously at his ear. “What

are you getting at, Hol?”

“Nothing.” The knight sighed and smiled sadly.

“Thought not.” This was when Caspian started to realize

that this wasn’t the typical pro-Jon, anti-Jon conversation.

 “So what? You’re here to escort me home, right? Don’t

trust me to make it on my own?” He was an expert at deflecting.

“Well, I don’t blame you one bloody bit,” he continued.

“Cause riding here, I got to thinking. Maybe we let things

settle for a week or two and give Jon some time to cool off.”

Caspian’s eyes flashed towards the door.

Caloth’s First-Knight ran a hand through his hair. He took

a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “Jon is gone, Caspian. He

won’t be back until spring. He left Caloth last week.”

“Come again?”

He swallowed hard and sat straight. “He’s on his way to

Oroth-Proper to follow up on an opportunity that presented

itself in recent days. The trip is connected to something that

he and your father had been working in the months before he

passed.”

Caspian leaned forward. Something wasn’t right.

“Following up on what opportunity? What is this all about,

mate?”

“I am sorry, Caspian.” He wore a sad smile. “You know I

would tell you if I could.”

“Typical,” the tattered count folded his arms across his

chest. “Didn’t want to bloody know anyhow. Just being polite

is all.” He poured and drained a fourth shot and looked up

curiously.
 “So, if Jon is gone, what is this about?” The question was

met by a tense silence, causing him to push. “Hol?”

The First-Knight’s eyes darted anxiously around the room.

He snatched up the bottle and refilled the one-handed count’s

glass. Caspian tilted his head and cautiously accepted the

shot. Sir Hollace lifted his own glass, still brimming from

earlier and nodded. They drank.

“Before Jon left…” Caloth’s first knight took a calming

breath. “Your brother wants you out of the duchy before he

returns.”

“He what?” The tattered count sprung to his feet.

“Caspian, please.” Sir Hollace stood as well. He tried to

put a comforting hand upon Caspian’s shoulder, but he angrily

shook his head and swatted the gesture away.

“Coward waited for Dad to die and then sent you to do his

dirty work?” He quivered with rage. “And what if I don’t

leave? What then? Is he gonna put me in bloody chains?”

“Don’t do this Caspian.” Sir Hollace’s eyes betrayed his

anguish.

“That sister-bleeding piss-ox would, wouldn’t he?” He

looked off into the distance, his face betraying a thinly veiled

snarl.

“He’s not asking this as your duke, but as your brother.

Let him grieve.” There was nothing Hollace could say to soften
the blow. “First Ambriel and now your father. Jon has filled

those holes with duty.” He felt helpless.

“So he pushes his flogging brother away? Takes my bloody

home?” Caspian clenched and unclenched his fist, taking slow

deep breaths. He looked for something to break, but it wasn’t

his style.

“You know there’s more to it.” Sir Hollace reached out

once more to put his hand on the tattered count’s shoulder.

Caspian – who was moved by his friend’s persistence – allowed

for it, thrusting him into a rare and introspective moment.

All of the animosity between him and his brother stemmed

from the passing of Jon’s wife, close to decade earlier. It

would have been silly to suggest that Ambriel’s death stung

Hollace any less than it did the brothers, except he didn’t have

the luxury to be angry, immature or obstinate. Hollace was

stuck between Jon and Caspian and forced to listen to their

anger, their fears and regrets. He understood both men and

could see both sides, but his objectivity proved far more a

curse than a blessing.

“Like we haven’t suffered as well?” The tattered count

looked needfully at Hollace and received a resigned shrug and

nod in return. This was when the thought occurred to Caspian,

causing him to laugh.

“He thinks I’ll embarrass him, doesn’t he?”

 “What?”

“Jon wants me to leave Caloth because he thinks I’ll

embarrass him.” He put a hand to his chin and squinted, deep in

thought.

Caspian was right, but Sir Hollace refused to admit it.

“Just let him get things in order. Give and he’ll give in

return. I’m sure of it.”

The tattered count’s face gave way to a devious smirk and

he began to wiggle in anticipation. This naturally worried Sir

Hollace. Caspian was the most resilient man that the kingdom

knight had ever met, and he was tied for the most stubborn. He

also held a terrible grudge.

“Don’t worry, mate. I’ll not force your hand. I know

you’re only doing what he tells you. But you and I know that it

cannot end here.”

Sir Hollace drew a deep breath terrified by what the

tattered count might have up his sleeve. He leaned back in his

chair and put his hands upon the table, waiting for the other

shoe to fall. His face was expressionless despite the wave of

anxiety that Caspian’s excitement brought upon him.

“Well seeing how I’ve been banished and rarely privy to his

schedule – I’ve a very small window to embarrass him in Oroth.

Maybe give him the reason he is looking for.”