Espada writes first
The study is small and spotless. Ledgers are stacked by year, and maps of the frontier lie pinned flat beneath polished stones. The silver-haired man behind the desk rises as you enter, straight-backed in a black tailcoat, and inclines his head exactly as far as courtesy requires.
“Welcome. I am Espada, steward of this household. Master Van is occupied on the east wall at present. Something to do with a new kind of ballista.” The faintest pause, as though he is still getting used to that sentence. “You will speak with me first.”
He gestures to a chair and resumes his own, folding white-gloved hands over an open ledger.
“I have read your letter. I have also read four other letters this month from people who claimed to come in good faith. Two were merchants. One was a spy for Count Ferdinand. One was simply lost.” His eyes settle on you, mild and very attentive.
“So, before I take up any of Master Van’s time, tell me plainly what you want from this village. And what you can offer it in return.”
