“It is an unconscionable arrangement,” Shuden agreed, “one based on greed and fear rather than loyalty.”
Sarene continued to stroll around the table. “Have any of you looked at Arelon’s production charts over the last ten years?”
“Is there such a thing?” Ahan asked.
Sarene nodded. “We keep them in Teod. Would you be surprised to find, my lords, that Arelon’s level of production has plummeted since Iadon took control?”
“Not at all,” Ahan said. “We’ve had quite the decade of misfortune.”
“Kings make their own misfortune, Lord Ahan,” Sarene said with a cutting motion of her hand. “The saddest thing about Iadon’s system is not what it does to the people, nor is it the fact that it destroys the morality of the country. No, most pitiful is the fact that it does both of these things without making the noblemen any richer.
“We have no slaves in Teod, my lords, and we get along just fine. In fact, not even Fjorden uses a serf-based system anymore. They found something better—they discovered that a man will work much more productively when he works for himself.”
Sarene let the words hang in the air for a moment. The lords sat thoughtfully. “Continue,” Roial finally said.
“The planting season is upon us, my lords,” Sarene sad. “I want you to divide your land amongst your peasants. Give them each a section of field, and tell them they can keep ten percent of whatever that land produces. Tell them that you will even let them buy their homes and the land they occupy.”
“That would be a very difficult thing to do, young princess,” Roial said.
“I’m not done yet,” Sarene said. “I want you to feed your people well, my lords. Give them clothing and supplies.”
“We are not beasts, Sarene,” Ahan warned. “Some lords treat their peasants poorly, but we would never accept such into our fellowship. The people on our lands have food to eat and clothing to keep them warm.”
“That may be true, my lord,” Sarene continued, “but the people must feel that you love them. Do not trade them to other nobles or squabble over them. Let the peasants know that you care, and they will give you their hearts and their sweat. Prosperity need not be limited to a small percentage of the population.”
Sarene reached her seat and stood behind it. The lords were thinking—that was good—but they were scared as well.
“It will be risky,” Shuden ventured.
“As risky as attacking Iadon with Lord Eondel’s army?” Sarene asked. “If this doesn’t work, you lose a bit of money and some pride. If the honorable general’s plan doesn’t work, you lose your heads.”
“She has a point,” Ahan agreed.
“A good one,” Eondel said. There was relief in his eyes: soldier or not, he didn’t want to attack his countrymen. “I will do it.”
“That’s easy for you to say, Eondel,” Edan said, wiggling in his seat. “You can always just order your legion to work on the farms when the peasants turn lazy.”
“My men are policing our country’s highways, Lord Edan,” Eondel huffed. “Their service there is invaluable.”
“And you are handsomely rewarded for it,” Edan spat. “I have no income but that of my farms—and while my lands look big, I’ve got that blasted crack running right through the center of them. I don’t have any room for laziness. If my potatoes don’t get planted, weeded, and harvested, then I will lose my title.”
“You’ll probably lose it anyway,” Ahan said with a helpful smile.
“Enough, Ahan,” Roial ordered. “Edan has a point. How can we be certain the peasants will produce more if we give them so much liberty?”
Edan nodded. “I have found the Arelish peasantry to be a lazy, unproductive lot. The only way I can get enough work out of them is by force.”
“They aren’t lazy, my lord,” Sarene said. “They are angry. Ten years is not so long a time, and these people can remember what it is to be their own masters. Give them the promise of autonomy, and they will work hard to achieve it. You will be surprised how much more profitable an independent man is than a slave who thinks of nothing more than his next meal. After all, which situation would make you more likely to be productive?”
The nobles mused over her words.
“Much of what you say makes sense,” Shuden noted.
“But, Lady Sarene’s evidence is vague,” Roial said. “Times were different before the Reod. The Elantrians provided food, and the land could survive without a peasant class. We no longer have that luxury.”
“Then help me find evidence, my lord,” Sarene said. “Give me a few months and we will create our own proof.”
“We will … consider your words,” Roial said.
“No, Lord Roial, you will make a decision,” Sarene said. “Beneath everything else, I believe that you are a patriot. You know what is right, and this is it. Don’t tell me you’ve never felt any guilt for what you have done to this country.”
Sarene regarded Roial anxiously. The elderly duke had impressed her, but there was no way for her to be sure he felt ashamed for Arelon. She had to depend on her impression that his heart was good, and that in his long life he had seen and understood how far his country had fallen. The collapse of Elantris had been a catalyst, but the greed of the nobility had been the true destroyer of this once grand nation.
“We have all been blinded at one time or another by Iadon’s promises of wealth,” Shuden said with his soft, wise voice. “I will do as Her Highness asks.” Then the brown-skinned man turned his eyes on Roial and nodded. His acceptance had given the duke an opportunity to agree without losing too much face.
“All right,” the elderly duke said with a sigh. “You are a wise man, Lord Shuden. If you find merit in this plan, then I will follow it as well.”
“I suppose we have no choice,” Edan said.
“It’s better than waiting, Lord Edan,” Eondel noted.
“True. I agree as well.”
“That leaves me,” Ahan said with a sudden realization. “Oh, my. What shall I do?”
“Lord Roial agreed only grudgingly, my lord,” Sarene said. “Don’t tell me you are going to do the same?”
Ahan bellowed a laugh, his entire frame shaking. “What a delightful girl you are! Well, then, I guess I have to accept wholeheartedly, with the admonition that I knew she was right all along. Now, Kiin, please tell me you haven’t forgotten dessert. I’ve heard such lovely things about your confections.”
“Forget dessert?” her uncle rasped. “Ahan, you wound me.” He smiled as he rose from his chair and moved toward the kitchen.
“She is good at this, Kiin—perhaps better than I am.” It was Duke Roial’s voice. Sarene froze; she had gone looking for the washroom after bidding everyone farewell, and had expected them to be gone by now.
“She is a very special young woman,” Kiin agreed. Their voices were coming from the kitchen. Silently, Sarene slipped forward and listened outside the door.
“She neatly slipped control away from me, and I still don’t know where I went wrong. You should have warned me.”
“And let you escape, Roial?” Kiin said with a laugh. “It’s been a long time since anyone, including Ahan, got the better of you. It does a man good to realize he can still be taken by surprise once in a while.”
“She nearly lost it near the end there, though,” Roial said. “I don’t like being backed into corners, Kiin.”
“It was a calculated risk, my lord,” Sarene said, pushing open the door and strolling in.
Her appearance didn’t give the duke even a moment’s pause. “You all but threatened me, Sarene. That is no way to make an ally—especially of a crotchety old man such as myself.” The duke and Kiin were sharing a bottle of Fjordell wine at the kitchen table, and their manner was even more relaxed than the dinner had been. “A few days wouldn’t have hurt our position, and I certainly would have given you my support. I’ve found that thoughtful, well-considered commitment is much more productive than
spurious professions.”
Sarene nodded, slipping a glass from one of Kiin’s shelves and pouring herself some wine before sitting. “I understand, Roial.” If he could drop formalities, then so could she. “But the others look to you. They trust your judgment. I needed more than your support—which, by the way, I know you would have given—I needed your open support. The others had to see you accept the plan before they would agree. It wouldn’t have had the same impact a few days later.”
“Perhaps,” Roial said. “One thing is certain, Sarene—you give us hope again. Raoden was our unity before; now you will take his place. Kiin or I couldn’t do it. Kiin has refused nobility for too long—no matter what they say, the people still want a leader with a title. And me … they all know that I helped Iadon start this monstrosity that has slowly killed our country.”
“That was long ago, Roial,” Kiin said clasping the elderly duke on the shoulder.
“No,” Roial said with a shake of his head. “As the fair princess said, ten years isn’t long in the life span of nations. I am guilty of a grave mistake.”