We switch back to Jeremiah's POV, explore some of the trauma in his life and a dalliance with one of the newer Proxies his father had brought on before he went away to fight in the war.
NOTE: There might be some world building and plot inconsistencies when compared to earlier chapters. Please bear with me as I'm working this piece out. Please enjoy and comments/criticisms are encouraged.
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NOW
JEREMIAH
Jeremiah poured himself a snifter of brandy and moved to a corner of the room. He watched his father bluster with his vassal lords and tried not to react. He realized this was the same corner he used to stand in when he was a child. His father seemed so much scarier. Not so much anymore.
"I am glad you are back," Derek said as he moved next to Jeremiah.
"So am I," Jeremiah said. "I just wish that I had a choice in the matter. Hell, I wish I'd known about it when I decided to come home. I wish I had more of a choice."
"Always the dreamer," Derek said, sipping his drink.
"I suppose," Jeremy said. "He's very proud of his factory."
"He's curried many favors to build it," Derek said. "And he managed to leverage your reputation as a commander on it."
"What?"
"Your exploits along the frontier have become legendary," Derek said. "Father's made sure of that."
"Terrific," Jeremiah said. He looked for an answer in the glass. It wasn't there. He took a drink then sighed. "It's not something to glorify."
"Did you think that your retirement would be spent on some country house painting landscapes?"
"The beach," Jeremiah said. "And it would be sunsets and bird on the wing that I'd be painting."
"The beach, huh?" Derek said. "You're going to love the new Proxy, she's from the North."
"She was brought in for you," Jeremiah reminded him. Derek scoffed.
"Don't remind me," Derek said. "I begged him not to." He paused for a long moment. "Jer, I really love her."
Jeremiah nodded. He understood but he said nothing else. The pain was still too fresh. He could still feel the cold steel of the pistol in his hand. Derek looked at his older brother, not seeming to notice his pause.
"She's just...not experienced."
"And you are?"
"You know what I mean," Derek said. "I've been with Mia, a few convent girls, even fooled around with Englefrond's eldest daughter."
"How is Marie?"
"Married to old Lord Schimmer," Derek said. "She's already had two kids. A boy and a girl."
"That would make them eighth and ninth in line for his seat," Jeremiah said.
"Gold and platinum mines still make the man a desirable match," Derek said.
"The more things change," Jeremiah said. "Anyway, about Lara."
"She is wonderful," Derek said. "But father feels that I'm missing the lustiness required of a Steineld man and that simply won't do. Thanks, in large part, to you."
"Me?"
"You cut quite a swath in your time on the frontier," Derek said, arching an eyebrow at his brother. Jeremiah tried not to look at him.
"You shouldn't believe gossip."
"Mother was mortified after she heard about your affair with Lady Sweldon's serving girls."
"Not a serving girl," Jeremiah said, trying to stop the smile from forming on his face. Derek gasped. Jeremiah shrugged. "Her husband died serving the Union, I merely delivered the news and offered her solace."
"You scoundrel."
"How is mother?"
"You should see her for yourself," Derek said. "She misses you terribly. She visits the tabernacle daily to make sacrifices in your name."
"Is that so?" Jeremiah said. "She was always superstitious."
"To a fault,"
"My boys are smiling," Lord Steineld roared. "The spirits save me, was this all I needed to do was reunite them?"
Jeremiah's entire body went rigid as his father stalked towards them. Derek drained his drink, exchanging a quick glance with Jeremiah. The big man squeezed his way between his sons and he put his arm around them, smiling at both of them, his eyes wild. Jeremiah had forgotten how strong his father actually was.
"I've missed my brother," Derek said. "I am glad that he's returned unharmed."
"Of course, he did," Lord Steineld said. "He's a Steineld, the progeny of the soon to be Third Seat in the Davaraugh."
"Hear, hear my lord," a voice called out from the crowd. Jeremiah glanced over and saw a slender man of medium height in a gray suit standing at the front, holding up a glass of sparkling wine. Jeremiah glanced over to Derek who shrugged his shoulders Willem Hastings was a minor noble from the western most reaches of his father's territory. He had managed to ingratiate himself to his father and was a constant guest. Jeremiah frowned at him while Willem smirked.
"Thank you, Willem," Lord Steineld said. "The boys are the future of the territory. Without Derek at the forefront of the negotiations alongside me and Jeremiah's stalwart defense of our nation's borders, none of this would be possible."
Jeremiah tried to smile, but too many thoughts bounced around in his head and somewhere in the back of his mind he heard the words, "No, please, I swear it wasn't me." Then gunshots.
"I did as I was ordered, father," Jeremiah said. Several of those in the crowd of men applauded.
"In the most patriotic of manners, my lord," Willem said, holding up his glass again. "To the Union."
"To the Union," the crowd called out.
Jeremiah held up his drink and took a sip.
"Keep smiling," his father leaned in close to Jeremiah's ear, "I need you to keep it together. You are going to be the face of this family here at home."
"Why would you think otherwise?" Jeremiah said. His father looked at him smiling broadly but there was nothing but crazed malice in his eyes. Jeremiah tried to pull away but his father's iron grip held firm. He had forgotten how titanically strong the man was.
"You are the face here now," he said in a whisper. "Remember that means something different than on the frontier."
"Of course father," Jeremiah said, smiling for a long time. His father said something about the future of the house and the Midlands, but Jeremiah wasn't paying attention. His mind had wandered as it so often did during these little moments with his father. The powerlessness he felt. He wondered if that was how she had felt while she was pleading for her life. He suppressed a shudder as his father squeezed. He let them go and moved on to the vassal lords again, leaving Jeremiah and Derek alone. Before Jeremiah could say anything, Willem approached them. Jeremiah tried not to show his contempt but knew he was failing.
"It is good to see you, old friend," Willem drawled, all charm. Behind him, two hulking bodyguards followed. Ogres, Jeremiah thought, looking at the burly men. He'd never seen male Mountain Folk before and had only met the Mountain girl his father had brought in as a Proxy a few times before he left.
"What do you want Willem?" Derek asked.
"I wanted to welcome your brother back from the war," Jeremiah said. "And express my gratitude for his service."
"Thank you, Willem," Jeremiah said.
"Your exploits were well cataloged," Willem said. Jeremiah and Derek exchanged glances but said nothing. "We heard all about the night time raids and your defense of Haregara's Pass. Is that how you earned those medals?"
"Yes," Jeremiah said. He stared out into the night through the windows of his father's solar. The night raids were the worst and they repelled them each time, but not without losses. So many losses. He felt a phantom pain in his side and then his shoulder, but said nothing. Jeremiah turned back to Willem. "For valor extraordinary in service of the Union. Twice."
"How many medals do you have, Willem?"
"As many as you Derek," Willem said.
"It's been two years since I needed to wear my Naval dress blues," Derek said. "Or did you forget I served after university? Oh, wait, you were on your first deferment, weren't you?"