A Lord's Treasure

An onyx sky slowly transforms into a cerulean welkin with a white-gold sun. Peach sunlight reveals the dust covering the furniture of the Treasurer’s quarters. The morning sun blinds Lord Richard as he awakens with an excruciating headache, nausea, and the urge to urinate and defecate while visualizing a spinning room.

Even though I was appointed as the Treasurer of Starkton, The White-Grey Keep, and King Gwayne Sterling yesterday, my life currently doesn’t feel any different; except I got five hours of sleep last night instead of my usual nine. Too much celebration and thinking about balancing my former life with this new one, but I think I will mentally and physically survive. Thank our battlemage-god Verítamor the squires and handmaidens knew how to clean up King Gwayne’s puke or else I couldn’t stand to have participated in last night’s festivity in the great and mess halls and have my own room in this castle near the master quarters and great hall.

Richard Wyvern, completely nude, rises out of his bed that’s covered with wolf furs sewn into a blanket and a deer pelt bedding cover shielding the hay bedding. He then proceeds to dress himself in a rose-colored silk doublet embroidered with gilded paisleys and pins a moonstone dragon pin near his heart, then slips into corduroy breeches and black boots. All of his new clothes and moonstone pin are gifts from the Sterling family and the guests of their last-minute feast, which were mostly nearby liege lords and family members that were present in other areas of The White-Grey Keep and in the city. Richard’s clothing from yesterday is hanging over the balustrades at the balcony of his new room to dry after being washed late the previous night by the handmaidens.

As Richard Wyvern begins to search the desk for the financial records of The White-Grey Keep and King Gwayne Sterling, the room is still spinning. Richard quickly sits in the oak chair to ease his burden, but his attempt was unsuccessful. Thump! “Damn it!” His head slams onto the desk and a red mark is left on the left side of his face from the impact and his already crooked nose starts bleeding. “Shit!” He plugs his nose with the ends of a nearby handkerchief and continues searching for the books. The financial records were underneath other books of entertaining literature and some letters, some still with wax sealing, which the last occupant of the chamber left behind.

How is this even possible? When analyzing the financial records of The White-Grey Keep, Richard Wyvern notices that there is barely any money recorded for the safe, but numerous entries of incomes and expenditures. There are no income entries in King Gwayne Sterling’s book, but a tremendous amount of debts and expenses incurred. He records his observations.

Richard then gets up and rushes to the privy to relieve himself. The dizziness is lessened than earlier, but still problematic while Richard walks alternatingly swaying toward his left and right legs all the way back to his chamber. When he grabs the books and notes, he rapidly walks toward the master’s quarters.

Gwayne Sterling’s master chamber is large enough to cover the Treasurer’s chamber ten times over, yet most of the space is filled with luxurious furniture and more than enough treasure to concern High King Lesirion about the possibility of unpaid taxes. Multiple brightly-colored rugs from the Elysium provinces line the floor. The walls of the room are lined with several animal skulls, book-ended by a pair of opposing, tall statues; one growling silvery wolf, perched on its haunches, and a golden, roaring lion with one ruby eye and an empty socket where another ruby must have once sat. A nude Gwayne Sterling is asleep in the bed with two nude harlots, which one is his wife Queen Alysse who owns and operates Alysse’s Brothel.

“Your Grace? I hate to awaken you, but I must speak with you at once.” Richard is staring to his lower right side, away from the nude women.

Why the hell would you bother me at a time like this? Can’t you see that I was asleep and that I had company? Gwayne thought, but refused to say to his newly appointed Treasurer. “What the bloody hell happened to your nose? If what you have to discuss is as important as you claim, then I must tend to the business at hand. Ladies, out!”

Gwayne’s pale-skinned wife Alysse, with curly auburn hair and jade eyes, and the olive-skinned lady with black hair got dressed as quickly as they could and rapidly left. Richard sat down in a nearby oak chair at the king’s elm desk, placing the books down on the desk during the process.

“Nevermind my bloodied nose, I accidentally hit my head on the desk with dizziness earlier. Your Grace, do you have any knowledge about money and the maintenance of money? Did anyone ever teach you anything about it?”

Gwayne Sterling stares at him with his mismatched eyes, frowning lips, and wrinkled forehead. “Of course I know some things about money. I once read a book about it and I’m a bloody castellan of the most prestigious castle in this kingdom. Money defines who I am.”

“Either you have been blind to someone possibly robbing you and The White-Grey Keep, or you don’t know nearly as much as you think. You and this establishment are practically broke. Look at the numbers I analyzed and ran this morning.” Richard retrieves the books from atop the desk and hands them over to King Gwayne.

As Gwayne Sterling sits upright underneath the bed covers and reviews the numbers in the books and parchment that had a brief overview of the situation, his face gradually gains more and more tension and redness. His face eventually darkens to a cabernet color.

“This is absurd. Have I really been this reckless? How should we begin to turn this situation towards prosperity, Treasurer?”

“We’ll simply begin by saving at least one-fifth, rounded up to the nearest well-rounded hundredth, of all your incomes and those of The White-Grey Keep for your wellbeing and the wellbeing of The White-Grey Keep, respectively. Then we’ll split that percentage in half to be diverted towards the castle’s expansion and your retirement, respectively.”

This goes against my dream where I gained financial knowledge. “I thought you were my Treasurer and not my Fool. This is folly. This is absolutely impossible. How will The White-Grey Keep survive and I live like I deserve?”

“It’s not impossible. Much easier than you think. So easy that even the poor could do it without readily noticing their rising treasures. I follow this same principle.”

“But how will I afford my Iytaleesh wine, trips to our capital Honet, brothel visits, clothing, and servants?”

“It’s still possible to afford most of what you want and need, but please don’t attempt to hinder the progress that I truly want for you and your people. In fact, saving ten percent of at least everything we currently have and receive can also make sure that we have plenty of soldiers and supplies.”

Gwayne’s mismatched eyes stare directly into Richard’s eyes with disdain, then Gwayne decides to comment, “So be it, I’ll try to find a way to meet halfway on my own expectations and your expectations on behalf of my wellbeing and the wellbeing of The White-Grey Keep. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to get dressed.”

“At once, Your Grace.” Richard then proceeds to leave the master chamber with the books and notes and search for a servant. He instructs a boy-servant no older than ten to find all of the highest ranking lords underneath Gwayne Sterling to instruct them to meet Lord Richard Wyvern in the great hall two and a half hours past noon. Richard returns the books to his desk and records notes for himself and those lords on paper.

Two and a quarter hours past noon have passed, and Richard sits upon the throne with his parchments while waiting for the next fifteen minutes to pass and the rest of the lords to arrive. Each lord gradually enters the room, slowly walks toward the tables, and then rotates their respective chair towards the throne. Tyrian Sterling, Naval Master and brother of Gwayne Sterling, who is wearing a phlox-colored coat and a matching patch over his right eye while exposing his left amber eye, has a broad nose that is covered by a horizontal scar that curves below his left eye, long, wavy onyx hair with white streaks that extends to the top of his back’s curve, and bears a steel cutlass holstered upon his hip. General Randall Bilteen, a stout, square-jawed man with grey hair fringed forward across his forehead, a thick rounded chin beard, and purpureus eyes just like his daughter’s, and wears burgundy-painted heavy armor designed with a topaz fox on the torso and shoulder pauldrons and a falchion at his hip. Trade Master Deevon Yor, a slender, dark-skinned man originally from Pylon on the Canteenian Desert’s western coast who has black eyes, a broad nose, thin black hair, thick black beard, has a curved kilij with a cobalt handle encrusted with emeralds on its quillons hanging from his left hip in an indigo scabbard, and is currently wearing a thin silk mauve and gold coat fastened with a golden lion pin upon his left breast. Tax Collector Sim Fostand, a scrawny pale man who wears a beige cotton tunic, pants, and hood to conceal his baldness, has brown eyes, a pointed nose, wrinkles from the early stages of being elderly and stressed, and carries a cinquedea blade at his right hip. Richard proceeds to stand after each lord is seated. Prince Drake Sterling has not arrived.

“Thank you all for gathering here today. However, where is Prince Drake Sterling? I have sent for each and every single one of you because I believe that you all are crucial towards my goals as the personal Treasurer of Gwayne Sterling and Starkton. The financial situation of The White-Grey Keep is not well, so it needs to be addressed. Effective as of immediately, one-fifth, rounded up to the nearest well-rounded hundredth, of all incomes is to be separated from the rest of the incomes and given separately.”

Randall Bilteen curtly asks “Why are you planning to have one-fifth of all incomes separated from the rest of the money we receive on behalf of The White-Grey Keep? Embezzling it, just like your uncle Cedric, you little shite?”

“Absolutely not! I’m trying to fix the castle’s situation at hand. Also, try to keep ten percent of all of your sector’s incoming resources and total resources at their respective stations.”

“We’ll do our best to trust you, but if it turns out that you desire selfish intentions instead of honest deeds, then don’t be surprised if you find yourself as grub for the dogs, just like your wretched uncle.”

Richard Wyvern glares downward onto General Randall Bilteen with tension in his neck as the other lords switch gazes between them. Tyrian Sterling and Sim Fostand leave The White-Grey Keep’s great hall while tension builds between Randall Bilteen and Richard Wyvern. Lord Deevon Yor glances at Randall.

“Now that I actually think about it, Randall, Richard’s right to want us to set aside part of our incomes on behalf of the castle. He could use the expansion savings to more effectively improve everything about the castle and around the city while your sold-“

“I don’t want to give up about ten percent of all the guards and soldiers on behalf of the castle when I can hit our enemies with as much force as needed,” Randall irately hisses.

Drake walks into the great hall, with his yellow tunic and brown pants drenched with sweat. Sweat condensates upon his brow.

“General Bilteen, I promise unto you, Deevon Yor, and all the other lords and ladies of Starkton that you will not be negatively affected by having about one-fifth of your soldiers evenly placed aside and split between being designated as Starkton guards or extra reserve manpower. Also, saving the fifth of all incomes and evenly splitting the percentage between reserves and expansion will only improve Starkton’s economic situation over time. You’ll quickly become accustomed to not having those incomes being readily disposable if they’re reserved as soon as they’re received.”

“Randall, just drop it and listen to him! King Gwayne hired him as our Treasurer so the financial situations for Starkton and Gwayne can be corrected and improved instead of getting worse,” Deevon chimes. “I now understand why he wants this, for this tactic will work.”

Randall stubbornly darts past Drake Sterling and storms out of The White-Grey Keep’s great hall as Drake’s eyes, then head, follow Randall with bewilderment.