Swordcrossed

by Freya Marske

“I know what you meant,” said Matti. “I do a bit of everything. My father is the Guildmaster here,” he added, with painstaking pride. “He can’t be expected to oversee our House’s doings as minutely as he used to.” Matti’s voice firmed even further. “I’m glad that he trusts me with it.” There it was: the puzzle piece. Guildmasters were politicians; if one was also Head of a House, their elected term was a busy few years for the rest of their family. Doing a bit of everything, in that context, meant that the man in front of Luca—who dressed himself and held himself as though embarrassed by his own size, and who had yet to raise his voice beyond a mild conversational volume—was likely to be single-handedly managing the business affairs of one of the most prominent Houses in Thesper’s wool trade. He wasn’t a minor member of Jay House. He was the Head in everything but name. He was the heir.