Feudal oaths, except for some missing Lords

The business of your reign starts with taking oaths from your Dukes and a few more important Counts, and, last "And most probably least!" as she said, your half-sister Vesper, whose title Lady of the Crossroads, though low in precedence, holding one fortress, no tenants, and few troops, is pledged direct to the Crown.

Your father ensured that Vesper was recognized by the royal council, so she would have official status despite her irregular circumstances of conception and birth. As you have the story, Vesper's mother was a huntress and priestess of nature, who yielded Vesper into the care of the royal household and disappeared into the woods, or left for the elf-kingdom. "Or turned into a tree!" Vesper once said.

When Vesper was of age, she swore fealty to the Crown in the person of Lord Gilbert, and now that you have claimed the Crown in your own right, she swears her loyalty to you. Her land straddles a trading crossroads where the North Road intersects an east-west road. It's rough country, little inhabited, but the trade is steady during the season when the roads are good. Lately she's been spending more time being Lady of her domain rather than biding at Court, as the rest of the royal household presumed she'd prefer.

Four years older than you, you remember your half-sister as an exciting but sometimes terrifying presence, bashing about the royal household's apartments on whatever tear she was on that week -- she was a knight, she was the Dragon Empress, she was the Witch Queen. Eventually the grand ladies -- well, second daughters of Counts and Dukes, you'd allow -- managed to hound her into presentable shape, and they enlisted her in getting you to behave, as well.

And today you take her oath to the Crown. She is correct in every outer move and word, but you see the twinkle of naughtiness in her eye, and know it's the same Vesper underneath. You've grown to overtop her at last, and with your crown and a bit of heel on your shoe, you're clearly taller. This all helps allay the recollection of physical domination you recall from when you were small and she was irrepressible. She brought you a basket of gifts from her "carpet-sized domain" -- rare goods seized or offered to her as gatekeeper of an artery of land trade, and some books of which she said, "I'm sure you'll like."

You've now taken the oaths of enough of your lords to have effective control of the kingdom. The old Regent, now Steward, Lord Gilbert, looks visibly relieved.

But that evening, as you're discussing the lay of the land with your Marshal, Lord Garret, he has some points of concern to raise.

"We're missing some of the oaths, your majesty," Lord Garret says. "Some of them, we know. A Count is ill, or a Baron is on a punitive expedition against bandits. But here," he says, indicating the northeastern marches where Itheria tails off into the Great Forest, round over scrub, badlands and moors to the forested hills where Itheria borders the elven kingdom of Elileithel. "Here we have two Counts and three Barons begging off, and one Baron, here, not answering the call." He pulls his beard. "It's not as though they didn't know when your coronation was, your majesty."

"Have we heard word of trouble?" you ask.

"No single story, your majesty," Lord Garret says. "Beasts of the forest. Inclement weather. Landslips here and here, breaking the road," he says, pointing to the map. "Nothing that we haven't heard from the provinces before."

You look at the map, scanning the area over the borders of the absent lords.

"Had we reason to anticipate that the lords might be ****?"

Lord Garret snorts. "Begging your pardon, your majesty," he says. "Those lands waver back and forth. Not worth enough to punish or fortify them unless the other side looks threatening." He smiles. "Fortunately during the Regency, the other side of the border has been in more disarray than have we." He shakes his head. "Petty things. Holding taxes back to improve the roads, or make up for losses to beasts or weather."

"Did my father never have trouble with the marcher lords?" you ask.

Lord Garret spreads his hands. "The Queen your mother was from the house of Hightree," he says. "The marches felt well favored during the reign of your father and mother. He bows his head. "Your majesty may recall the fate of that house."

"The last dragon," you say. You bow your head. "Duke Hightree slew it as his last act. After...after it took my father and mother." You lift it. "Go on."

Lord Garret continues, "So, your majesty, with Hightree slain and his domain in ruins, the other march lords argue for precedence. And during the regency, all the attention we could spare was to hold the border. After a fashion."

"Are there any active threats on that border?" you ask.

"None that I am aware of, your majesty," Lord Garret says. "Though it would be best to keep our eyes and ears open there on the borderlands."

"Lord Gilbert advises I bide a time, ensuring the work of the royal court is well undertaken the major lords, ambassadors, and trade factors are properly cosseted, and taking fealty oaths in due time," you say. "Perhaps start looking for a consort. Let the borders stew until the center is well held." You incline your head. "Do you have any other alternatives?"

"Your majesty," Lord Garret says, "Lord Gilbert is a wise man, and cautious. He has preserved the realm. His counsel is wise." He pauses to take a breath. "So, that would be to bide. You could also assign royal commissioners to investigate in your name. Count Holly, perhaps. You could assign scouts and spies to collect information so we have a clearer notion of whether there is anything bubbling below the surface. Or..." He looks up to the side, lost in thought.

"Or?" you ask.

"Your majesty, I beg your pardon. Or you could make a Royal Progress and visit them. To my mind, the heart of Itheria is well held."

You smile. "It is certainly traditional," you say.

"And the army could do with a little marching, your majesty," Lord Garret says.

You consider your options, touching your fingertips one by one as you weigh Lord Garret's suggestions.

• Get things settled in the capital.
• Investigate the northeastern marches quietly.
• Send a royal commission to investigate in your name.
• Prepare for a Royal Progress to visit those who have not sworn fealty yet.
• Or something else? (Consult another advisor? See to your household?)