Many people paused, their smiles faltering slightly, unsure how to proceed. The other group kept smiling sincerely—those were the ordinary villagers of Rosea, excited after hearing the rumors spreading through their territory about the baron's plans to build schools for them, teaching them knowledge that until now had been accessible only to nobles.
From the guild group, the older man—the leader of one of the guilds—was the first to recover and take control of his faction, composing himself and returning to the business of flattery.
"As leader of the blacksmiths of Rosea, we are deeply impressed by your magnanimity, my lord. We would very much like to support you—we will always be ready to offer our help."
"What smooth words you have, Lord Lucano. We can speak another day about your support for my projects. Now is not the time."
"Of course, my lord. As a resident of Rosea and a member of the blacksmiths, we will always be ready to give everything we have to your projects."
With a gesture of his hand, López moved forward and cleared the people gathered at the entrance, opening a path for Licerio to ride through into the village.
They went to the constable's house and left their horses at a nearby stable. They were given the best rooms and left most of the belongings they had brought for the journey.
When Licerio walked into the meeting room, he stopped cold at the sight of those assembled inside.
The constable and scribe were there, talking with broad smiles and laughing with the leaders of the most powerful guilds in Rosea—Lucano and Valente.
How dare they come to this place, and uninvited at that? His gaze fell on the constable and the scribe, and, without a word, he froze them with an iciness that left no room for doubt; they would not hold their positions for another moment.
Men who were supposed to work for him were grinning and laughing with his enemies, not even noticing his entrance.
This was the most important village in all of Rosea, and it was a considerable stroke of luck to discover so easily that the men responsible for administering it were tied to the local guilds.
"I think my eyes must be failing me—I see people who shouldn't be here. Does the same happen to you, López?" he said, moving toward one of the empty seats in the room.
"The same, my lord. Perhaps we should take a seat in the corner—they seem to be enjoying themselves very much. So much so that they didn't notice your entrance."
The room fell into a dead silence, though it had no effect on Licerio, who moved naturally to his seat while López took his place standing behind him.
The other men had gone rigid, at a loss for how to proceed. The atmosphere had been broken by a few words, and any attempt to start a conversation or recover the mood was impossible.
The men looked at one another before standing and greeting Licerio formally. On the foreheads of the constable and the scribe, clear beads of sweat formed and slid down their faces, which they wiped away in hurried strokes, trying to keep their nerves and fear from showing.
They had dealt with Baron Grojo, who was straightforward enough—he never involved himself much in the management of the villages and nearly forgot they existed, remaining content and indifferent as long as the tax money came in along with the occasional gift. They had managed him with pleasant faces and flattering words.
Now they found themselves before his opposite: a man who cut cleanly through any inconvenience, with a cold precision and a hard pride.
Lucano and Valente, by contrast, held broad smiles—wide enough to be unsettling without quite crossing that line—and kept their expressions composed, sitting down immediately after greeting Licerio.
The constable and scribe remained standing, waiting for Licerio to invite them to sit, but the invitation never came. Knowing where things stood, they had staked everything on Lucano and Valente. They glanced at them, then sat down—breaking entirely with Licerio.
As they settled into their seats, they studied Licerio's bearing and caught a faint sense of his attitude toward them, though the clearest sign was the cold look he gave them; they had offended him completely, and there was no longer any room for reconciliation.
"Why are both guild leaders here? I don't recall inviting you nor permitting your presence at this meeting."
"Please, calm your anger, my lord baron. It was our greatest wish to be of help to you in your plans. Creating a school and bringing knowledge to us common people—it's a remarkable thing. We in the guilds have a great deal of experience in teaching; we could serve as instructors in the school." Lucano laid this out with sweeping gestures of his hands.
"We have come as representatives of all the guilds of Rosea and Lisea to discuss this matter—" Before Valente could finish, Lucano, seated beside him, nudged him lightly with his knee.
Valente glanced sideways at Lucano, wondering what he meant by it. When he looked, he found a cold stare—a reproach. He immediately went back over what he had just said and found his mistake. He decided not to open his mouth again until the situation improved.
"Interesting," Licerio said with a dry note of mockery. "I see the guilds of both territories have grown quite close—it's rather touching to see you working together." He paused. "I also appreciate your intentions. But—" his gaze sharpened and his tone hardened, "—in my schools, I intend to educate students so they can work in any trade without being bound to a guild for the rest of their lives."
The air in the room seemed to drop in temperature, and a dead silence locked itself around them. Lucano and Valente's smiles twisted, the words they were trying to form frozen in their throats.
The scribe felt the weight of the situation and tried to speak, wanting to break the silence and improve things on his side.
His words stayed in his throat, unable to come out, when he caught a sharp gaze fixed on him from the side—it was López, staring at the scribe with full, open fury. He was not going to allow such filth to try to speak. From the moment the man had chosen to stand against his lord, he had forfeited every right to open his mouth in his presence.
The atmosphere had hardened past saving. Even if any of them had tried to speak, the words would have slipped through the air and vanished without leaving so much as a mark.
Licerio looked at the four faces before him one last time and stood. He left the room without a word, and López followed close behind.