Kordas’s mother taught Isla how to manage a household when both of them were thirteen, and she was responsible for taking in Hakkon, her sister’s bastard. It was from his mother that Kordas had learned the complexities inherent in kindness, and the thrift of acceptance. Kordas lived by that, in fact—a hardship was only dwelt upon long enough to determine what the hardship’s particulars were, and then his thoughts switched immediately to how to alter that situation. He admired, loved, and trusted his mother, so he kept his mind open when she explained that his father did the best he could in his position to be a good father.

His father was “Duke Erik of Valdemar”—even now, he heard a herald’s voice in his mind saying the title, not his own. A ruler. He had Counts, who had Lords, who had Estates, and all of them had people to look after. Only after his father was dead did Kordas realize that his father had shown his love by making sure that Kordas had the right people guide him. It was through those others that the Duke lovingly raised his son to not crumple under the weight of inheriting Valdemar. It wasn’t until he sat down with his father, under wardings, that Kordas learned from his father’s own lips the admiration and trust Kordas had earned. And then, all too soon, his father was gone, and Kordas stood before the Manor in the Ducal regalia. Counts, Lords, and every person of rank in all of Valdemar gave their condolences for the loss of the man Kordas didn’t know most of his life, but had ultimately been admired by.

He drew a deep breath, buttoned his jacket up again, straightened up his tabard and the Crest of Valdemar upon it, and emerged from the grotto.

Back to the Fourth Game.

—

“Messenger,” Hakkon told him as soon as he came within view. “Came and went. Imperial.”

“Oh, joy.” He sighed. Not that this was unexpected. After all, it had been roughly a week since Lord Merrin had sent that report containing news he’d been birthing his own foal. That would have reminded the Emperor of his existence, and also of the fact that this year’s tax and tribute was supposed to include two Valdemar Golds. With the Birthday and Regatta not that far away, the Emperor would want his new toys on view, he’d want to see them himself to decide how best to display them, and he’d want them delivered immediately.

Hopefully that was all it was. The two of them stood face to face for several long moments, much unsaid between them.

“How was the grotto?” Hakkon finally asked.

Kordas brightened a little, and put both palms up. “Our horse went the distance.”