Prince Salistar watched the love of his life running after the mysterious priestess. Every nerve in his body fired, warning him that she was running into danger. Involuntarily he stepped towards the door to rush after her and stop this madness. A hand on his arm brought him quickly back to the room. Master Killian, the bard’s grip was like a steel vice holding him still.
When he felt the Prince’s body relax and the tension in his arm relax, he let go of his grip. “Your highness, she is as safe as can be and don’t forget she is not a helpless little girl but a warrior. I am sure she will be fine.”
Patting the Bards hand, “You have my thanks, Master Killian,” he responded before once again looking to the door she had just left. Turning to the dwarven King, he continued, “Your Majesty, we are ready to leave when you are.”
“Cardvork, Marshal the Dwarves for war,” ordered the dwarven King.
“It will be done, your highness; I will have runners sent to the farthest reaches of our tunnels to inform all dwarves that once again we march to battle. Where should I tell them to meet us?” Replied the Cardvork, all pretence of blocking the Prince gone.
“Prince Salistar?” asked the King in turn.
“Apparently,” he responded, thinking of the priestess, “we need to head to the Capital, that should take a few weeks; how long we need to be there I don’t know, we will have to come back through Princetown. We should marshal our armies there say in six weeks.”
“That should be plenty of time have the rest of the forces meet us at Princetown. We will accompany you to the Capital. Too long have the Dwarves been apart from the lands of men,” replied the dwarven King.
“That would be my pleasure, your highness,” replied Prince Salistar.
“Prince Salistar, us dwarves are not normally so formal. Would it bother you at all if we just dropped all of the pleasantries and just called each other by name? After all, we are going to war together.”
“My friends call me Sal,” replied Prince Salistar thinking of Mal and gripping the King’s arm in friendship.
“T’orn,” replied the dwarven King.
“Farth!” roared T’orn,
It was a mere moments before Farth walked in, “Ye, kalled me, Ye Lordship.”
Placing his hand on the hilt of his Warhammer menacingly, the King replied with a voice of steel. “Farth, the next time I hear that god awful tongue, we will have words.”
“Sorry, T’orn,” replied Farth, all hints of his accent gone.
“I swear to Balin, that accent of yours grinds my bones.” Taking a deep breath, T’orn continued, “Take the prince and his men back to their rooms so that they can prepare to leave,” turning back to Prince Salistar, “I’ll see you in an hour.”
By the time they approached the location they had been staying, horns could be heard throughout the dwarven city calling the men to war.
Gathering their things together, they exited their accommodation; Mal’s belongings had been shared out between them. Farth was waiting for them, but this time he wore a breastplate and helm that covered most of his face but left plenty of ability to see what was going on. The light from the street lamps gleaned from his polished breastplate.
“This way, your highness,” said Farth, gesturing down one of the streets.
After a few minutes, they arrive at a large hall with hundreds of dwarves milling about in good cheer. Seeing T’orn and the Cardvork on the other side, they made their way over to beside them.
“Ah, good everyone here?” He asked no-one in particular, turning to the crowd, “Listen Up!” he bellowed, “We march to war the Demon stirs, and the humans had invited us to the ball; it would be impolite to refuse. How say you all? Shall we go to the ball?”
Jeers of laughter and catcalls came from the dwarves assembled.
“In that case, line up behind your War leaders,” replied T’orn before starting to walk up a street that would eventually lead them to the tunnel they had used initially to get to the city of the dwarves.
It took much longer to climb out of the tunnels than to descend; the first tendrils of air that they felt in the tunnel announced the approaching exit, involuntarily, they quickened their step. The humans sighed in relief and breathed in the cold mountain air when they exited the tunnel.
Prince Salistar was pleased to see that the band’s surviving members had already dismantled most of the camp and were in the process of finishing up when we walked over to his men.
Seeing them looking throughout the group of dwarves for Mal, he spoke up, “The Commander has had to travel on to see an oracle; we are heading back to the Capital where she will hopefully meet us.”
Turning to the Black Guard’s Chamberlain, “How fares the men?”
“Good, good, my Lord Commander, we have lost none since the first night, and they are plenty rested; although most can walk, a few will require to ride. To make it to Kurik, I’m assuming that we will be heading back to Kurik?” seeing the Prince nod, he continued, “The dwarves have kindly lent us enough provisions. I’ve had two scouts out with a couple of dwarves; they report that the goblins are nowhere to be seen. Also, the wagon at the bottom of the trail is still functional, so we can transfer the more injured to it.”
“Warleader Tor!” called T’orn, and when he stepped forward, “Take a detachment and secure the bottom of the trail.”
Nodding, he turned and left his kings side; a detachment of men broke away from the group and streamed down the trail as if they hadn’t been climbing tunnels most of the morning.
Once everything had been packed, they moved off down the trail now; in the daylight, they could see the danger of the track, its steep edges where a single miss-step would have you falling into oblivion.
Since they were moving downwards, they made better timing than when they had to ascend not one week ago.
Battle sore men were happy to dump supplies into the wagons at the bottom of the trail. The stench of the dead hung heavy on the air; the bloated corpses of goblins could still be seen across the battlefield. The mass grave spoke of the numbers of the Black Guard that had died in the battle. The burial grave was bigger than Prince Salistar had thought it would be. Stone and rock had been piled over the top of the ground to stop scavengers from digging up the grave.
Seeing Prince Salistar looking at the grave, Chamberlain Wintersong came over. “I had a detachment of the more able-bodied men find every one of our dead and bury them, My Lord Commander.”
“Thank you, my friend,” replied Prince Salistar; the sadness in his voice carried the regret of their loss.
It took almost an hour to get the wagons over the battlefield as they had to drag goblin corpses out of the way. Eventually, they started to descend and leave the stench behind.
The injured men made slow going, and nearly a whole week had passed before they had approached the gates of Kurik. Prince Salistar took the opportunity to walk beside the Dwarven King T’orn, who he found very likeable. As they approached the city, they could see men lining the walls and shut tight gates.
Fear and forbidding swept over the Prince, had the goblins attacked Kurik?
“I suppose we might as well see what going on here,” he said out loud before lengthening his stride to get within speaking distance. Of the guards on the walls, he was pleased when T’orn kept pace with him.
“Hail, the city walls, open in the name of the King!”
“Prince Salistar, is that you?” Came a voice that took Prince Salistar a moment to find the man that produced it.
“It is; may we pass.”
“Yes, my prince,” he replied before turning his back on the Prince to shout down to the squad of men at the gate. “Open for the Prince and send a runner to the keep.”
As the troops entered the city, the Captain of the Lord Marshalls men stepped forward. “Sorry, your highness, we had reports of thousands of goblins migrating through the mountains. The gates are kept closed at all times for the safety of the city.”
“Think nothing more about it. I must speak with my uncle. Can you have accommodation for the Black Guard and our Dwarven friends arranged? We will be leaving on the morrow; my chamberlain will lease with the Lord Marshals Chamberlain for supplies.”
“Of course, My Prince, most of the taverns are empty at the minute, and I am sure they will appreciate the custom.”
Leaving the Captain of the guard to sort out accommodation for his men and the dwarves, Salistar, T’orn, Chamberlain Wintersong and the Cardvork headed towards the keep proper.
As they approached the keep entrance, the gates swung outwards to reveal Lord Marshal Deville and a detachment of Guards.
“Uncle,” called Prince Salistar, “May I introduce you to T’orn, King of the Dwarves and Cardvork Ironspike, his chamberlain. T’orn, may I present my uncle, Lord Marshal Gresson Deville.”
“Your Highness, welcome to Kurik; come let us get you some refreshments and food,” he replied, tilting his head slightly to the dwarven King and his chamberlain.
“We can leave any arrangements for your men to our Chamberlains, who will make any arrangements needed. Sal, what about the Lady Malderia?”
“She was safe the last time I saw her, uncle,” seeing the look on his face, he continued, “I’ll explain everything in time; firstly, I need to know what we are riding into.”
“Let us go to my chamber, then,” he replied, gesturing towards the doors he had just left.
As they headed towards the keep, the Lord Marshal spoke to T’orn, “Your, highness, it is truly a pleasure to meet you; may this signal a renewal of a friendship with the dwarves.”
“That is something I feel we can drink to, Lord Marshall,” barked T’orn with a loud, gruff laugh.
As they entered his private study, Lord Marshal DeVille called out to a passing page. “Bring some honey mead for us.”
“Yes, my lord,” replied the Page, hardly breaking stride except for a slight nod of his head.
“Please sit and be comfortable,” said Lord Marshal Deville.
Taking a seat by the fire, the warmth from the hearth soon started to soak into Prince Salistar’s bones. Making him feel warm for the first time since they left the Dwarven city.
“What news, Uncle?”
“Lots and none of it good, I’m afraid,” he replied, gesturing to the table map on the other side of the room where pieces that represented the forces, friend and foe, could be seen.
“The City of Bearon stands but is attacked daily; Lord Turok’s warning to the other cities between the mountains and the Lake of the Three Moons saved a lot of lives.
Mulír was not defendable as it had no city walls, so they forced marched to the safety of Bearon. Thankfully, they arrived before the bastards could attack in large numbers; those additional men at arms helped stop the first wave of attackers. The flames of Mulír lit up the surrounding sky for a week.
Carse stands; they were able to reinforce the old walls before they were attacked.
The goblin horde controls the land, but we hold the lake. Your father has shipped men to Carse and Bearon, along with supplies, while also shipping the old and young out to safer locations.
The southern Lords are all marshalling at Princetown before moving north along the east coast of the lake towards Carse. Then they will be able to strike directly for Bearon. The Western Lords, marshal, to the North of the lake at Kern, allowing them to strike across the five rivers and come at Bearon from the North.”
“I see; we will be travelling on to Prince town on the morrow and then the Capital to confer with my father. T’orns men will be marshalling at Princetown as well and should have arrived by the time we return from my father.”
“It is fortunate you had arrived when you did; I have a detachment of one hundred men at arms prepared to leave in the next couple of days. We will speed them along and send them with you on the morrow then.”
After taking a sip of his wine Lord, DeVille spoke: “Sal, what has happened the Lady Malderia and what do you mean she was safe the last time you saw her?”
“About a week ago, we were in the T’orn’s audience chamber, and the weirdest creature I’ve ever seen walked in. A priestess of an Oracle; her skin was completely blue,” shaking his head, he continued, “The Priestess told Mal that if she didn’t leave immediately, then all would be lost. When we went to go with her, we were told that all would be lost unless she went alone. That was almost a seven-night ago, and I have no way of knowing where or how she is.”
“That’s about right,” said T’orn when Prince Salistar had finished, “The Priestesses are said to have arrived and counselled dwarven kings when our kingdom was in peril, going back aeons. She told us that the Demon is trying to rise again. So we thought we might just go stomp on its head once and for all,” he finished with a grin while idly tapping a hand on the Warhammer on his hip.
—
In the morning, the fog rolled out of the mountain valley’s and surrounded the city walls; tendrils of fog seeped under the gate and through gaps. As the morning sun rose higher, the mist dispersed almost as quickly as it had arrived. When Prince Salistar, King T’orn and Lord Marshall DeVille left the keep what was left of the Black Guard, and the dwarves stood ready to go, a group of men stood in columns behind the Black Guard.
When Prince Salistar looked to Chamberlain Wintersong, he saw him mouth the words “New Recruits.”
“Ah, here is the detachment of men that will be going with you, my Prince,” said Lord Marshall Deville as a group of twenty men at arms marched out of the keep. “Sergeant Williams is a very dependable man and will serve you well, my Prince.”
Prince Salistar looked over the large group assembled in front of him, over one hundred humans and somewhere between three and four hundred dwarves marched to war.
Grasping his uncle’s arm, Prince Salistar bid his uncle goodbye. “Many thanks, Uncle,” and remembering the dwarven kings’ words, he turned to T’orn, “T’orn, shall we go to the ball?”
“Safe travels to you all,” responded Lord Marshal Deville.
As they left the city, the Black Guards Chamberlain caught up with them, “Commander, we had fifty recruits sign up this morning.”
“Fifty? Why such a big number?” asked Prince Salistar, stunned by the number.
“The dwarves were apparently singing the praises of the Battle of High Pasture in the taverns across the city, commander. Young men, mostly a couple of older recruits with experience mixed in as well.”
“Ok, do we have enough supplies for such a number?”
“We have some armour and weapons but will need more; the Lord Marshals chamberlain was able to provide pikes for the rest and enough canvas for us to make tents, along with more than enough food to get to Princetown, commander.”
“Mmm, how many have experience with weapons?”
“Not many, I’m afraid, commander.”
“They will have to have training every night and morning before we march; let us see what we can make of them before Princetown. Ask Tomi, Darr and a couple of the other more experienced members to start training them up.”
“Yes, my lord commander,” he said before pausing to allow the Guard to pass him before he could step into line with Tomi and Darr.
--
It was almost two weeks’ hard travel before they arrived at the gates of Princetown; in that time, they had trained the new recruits hard and the decision that three of them would not be staying with the Blackguard once they reached the city. It had been a hard decision as the three men were well-liked, but they had no skill on a horse or with weapons.
The morning they were entering the city, Prince Salistar had wished them well and paid them their wages and a bit extra to help them get home to Kurik.
As the small army approached the city of Princetown, a detachment of heavily armed men had ridden out to meet them.
As the five men approached, one upon seeing Prince Salistar held up his hand, telling his men to wait for him as he approached his liege alone.
“Prince Salistar, I bring news from your Uncle Prince Rupert,” he said, striking his breast with his gloved fist.
“How fares my uncle?”
“He is not a good man, my liege, he bids you and the Dwarven King, and what retainers you require to come forthwith to the keep, He also asks if your men can use the southern pasture to set up camp, The lord chamberlain is already there seeing to the detachments of men that the lords have sent to join the army, and he will see to them getting billeted, my liege.”
“Thank you, please tell my uncle that we will make haste,” he replied.
Bowing as best as he could in his saddle, the man turned and kicked his horse into a trot. His men fell in behind him as he made his way back to the safety of the city.
“Tomi, Darr, Barthel, Master Killian, to me,” he called.
As the four approached, he turned to T’orn, “What men do you wish to take with you to the keep?”
“Fine on me own,” replied T’orn.
Nodding to T’orn, he turned to the four as they drew up with them.
“Master Killian, I would like you to come to the keep with us, Tomi, Darr, Barthel, take charge of the men and set up camp to the south of the city. Chamberlain Wintersong, if you would accompany them and speak with the Lord Chamberlain about any needs, please. Remember, you are the Watch Commander of the Black Guard until Lady Malderia returns to us. If you have a need, I will be at the keep.”
“Sorry, your highness, but no... Darr and I will be accompanying you. Barthel is more than competent to set up camp and the continued training of the men, and besides, Dareon can help him,” replied Tomi.
Nodding, “Of course, you are right,” replied the Prince remembering their solemn promise to guard him.
Watching the rest of the men peel off the road and head for the pasture to the city’s southern field, where tents could already be seen. Prince Salistar, King T’orn and Master Killian continued on to the city gates.
The Guards seeing the black armour of the Blackguard, stepped out of the way and called for people trying to get in and out of the gate to make way. As they walked through the streets of the city, the sight of T’orn drew stares and whispers with every step.
The crush of people only reduced as they approached the gates of the keep.
Making their way through the keep and entering Prince Rupert’s private study. They found the Prince reading dispatches; Prince Salistar was shocked to see a tired-looking man in front of him, his shoulders slumped with the weight of the world on his shoulders.
“Uncle, you look terrible, shall I call a surgeon?” Asked Prince Salistar.
Waving his guests to seats in front of his desk, “I’m afraid there is nothing they can do for me; I took a chill not long after you last left and have caught ‘Widowmaker’,” he said with a racking cough.
The sadness in Prince Salistar’s eyes hearing of the death sentence his uncle now lived with, knowing that he would probably not live through the winter. The Widow Maker illness caused the lungs to fill with a thick tar-like substance that caused the infected a slow, painful death where they slowly suffocated.
“I am sorry, uncle” was all he could say.
“Salistar, I have summoned the southern army, and they should be fully mobilised in a few weeks. Fortunately, you have returned I will be unable to lead my men, so I will put the whole army under your command,” turning to T’orn, he continued, “You highness my thanks to the gods that Prince Salistar was able to find you and my thanks, for whatever it is worth, for joining us. We need you more than you can ever know.” As he finished, it was as if speaking so much caused him to start coughing again; it took several uncomfortable minutes for the racking cough to recede.
“Prince Rupert, thank you for your welcome; I have a dwarven surgeon; maybe she might know of a cure for your illness; I will have her sent to you as soon as I get back to camp.”
“My thanks, your highness, I would appreciate that very much,” again the racking coughing took control of him.
“Uncle, we will leave you now, I must travel to the Capital and see my father, but I should be back by the time that the army is mobilised. More dwarves will be coming and have been told to make their way here. Most should be here by the time we are back; those who come after can be told where we have headed. In the meantime, uncle, please rest.”
—
As they left the keep, Prince Salistar was quiet; only when they got to the busy road did the noise bring him back to reality and allow him to leave the gloomy thoughts behind.
“Ok, we need a ship; let us get to the harbour first,” he said.
The harbour hadn’t changed much since Tomi and Darr was last there; the noise was a bit louder, but the feeling of deja vu swept over the pair of them.
Seeing the dockmaster, Prince Salistar made his way over to him, “Are there any ships in the royal docks that could take us to the capital?”
“Your highness,” he said with a bow, “The silver fox arrived not one hour ago; it should be ready to sail tomorrow evening, would that suit?”
“I was hoping for something a bit sooner; actually, speed is of the essence.”
“There is the River Queen, herein on the merchant docks, which is fully unloaded and has no merchandise to load; I’m sure he could help, Your Highness.”
“Let us speak with the Captain of the River Queen; then can you provide me directions to the ship, please?”
Before the dockmaster could respond, Darr spoke up, “It is over there Commander, third one down,” seeing the look on the Princes face, he continued, “We sailed on it from Bearon to Carse with your uncle Lord Turok.”
“And the captain, what type of man is he?”
“Captain James is a good man, Commander, runs a good ship; I liked him,” replied Darr.
“Lead the way then, Darr, my thanks Dock Master for your time,” said the Prince giving the dockmaster a silver coin.
Arriving at the gangplank to the ship, a familiar face appeared on deck.
“Mister Grimshaw,” called Darr, “Permission to come on board?”
“Master Darr, is that you? Permission granted, it is good to see you again,” his eyes scanned the group in front of him, “Master Tomi, good to see you too. Introduce me to your friends Darr,” he finished with a smile.
“Master Grimshaw, May I introduce Prince Salistar and King T’orn and Master Killian the Black Bard.”
“Your Majesties, welcome to the River Queen; how can she help you?”
“We seek quick passage to the Capital, Mister Grimshaw. Is the Captain available?”
“He’s in the Tavern over there looking for merchandise to load; let me run and get him before he buys goods, my liege,” he replied, already heading for the gangplank.
They sat on the railing of the ship as it gently rocked in the flow of the river. Until Mister Grimshaw returned with Captain James in tow.
“My Liege, Mister Grimshaw here tells me that you need fast passage to the capital; that can be arranged when would you like to sail?”
“A couple of hours if that suits yourself, How much for passage to the capital for the five of us?”
“Nothing my liege, Lord Turok paid me handsomely once, to sail these two and their friends from Bearon to the Capital, and I was unable to fulfil that requirement, so this will help settle the debt as it where.”
“Then, in that case, Captain, We will be back as soon as possible,” replied the Prince, clasping the Captains’ hand in a warm embrace.
After seeing to the camp and issuing orders, one of which was to send the dwarven surgeon to see if she could help Prince Rupert. The five of them returned to docks and three days later sailed into the Capital proper with the royal crest flying on the mast; they docked quickly and were whisked to the palace in a waiting carriage that had arrived as the boat docked.
As the carriage arrived at the palace, Prince Salistar noticed his mother and Lady Swan waiting at the bottom of the steps for them to exit the carriage. As they disembarked the carriage, he noticed that Lady Swan was checking the faces of everyone as they exited. A look of mixed disappointment and worry on her face when she realised that Mal was not in the group.
Embracing his mother, “Mother, it is good to see you. What news?”
“Bad news, but I’m assuming you came from Princetown and have heard about your uncle Rupert? Of course, Poor Melissa hopes that he will survive, but everyone knows what widow maker means. Your father has taken it badly; he hates that affairs of state have kept him from travelling to see his brother,” she replied before noticing the dwarf with him, “And who is this?”
“Mother, I have the honour of introducing T’orn King of the dwarves. Who has marshalled the dwarves to fight at our side? They saved us from a nasty band of Goblins in the mountains.”
Hearing a sharp intake of breath from Lady Swan, Prince Salistar realised that she had no idea if Mal lived or died. “Lady Swan, Mal was in good cheer the last time I saw her,”
“Sorry, your highness, it is just the thought of her being in a battle; it worries me so,” replied Lady Swan.
“I wouldn’t worry too much about her, Lady Swan; she impressed the hell out of the dwarves in that battle; in fact, they sing songs about it most nights. She’s a living legend,” replied T’orn.
“Thank you, your Majesty, she has that effect on people, but I still like to worry,” replied Lady Swan.
“Please just T’orn will do, us dwarves are not as formal a people as you humans.”
“Well, T’orn, “said the Queen, “Please call me Leano. Have you eaten? We can get some food in the great hall. While we wait for my husband to arrive.”
Queen Leano Warsung escorted her son and T’orn King of the dwarves into the grand hall, all the while issuing orders to a multitude of pages who ran to fulfil the queens’ orders.
“Would you look at that,” said T’orn walking over to the large stone fireplace; the roaring fire was throwing streams of light across the details of the fireplace.
“You like it?” asked Queen Leona,
“I love it,” replied T’orn rubbing his hands across the stone in an almost caressing way, “I swear that is dwarven work. They say that true dwarven stonecutters melded the stone more than carved it. A skill that was lost hundreds of years ago.”
“I’ve always admired the detail of the fireplace myself,” replied the Queen taking a sip from the silver goblet a page had just handed her.
Taking a seat close but not too close to the fire, she gestured for them to sit. No sooner than they had sat than the King arrived. Causing everyone to start rising again before the King waved everyone back to their seats.
“Welcome, T’orn and welcome home son. It gladdens my heart to see you again. A fast courier from your uncle sent us your report, so what brings you back to the Capital?”
“To be honest, father, I’m not sure; you see, a priestess of the oracle told us that we had to come here, but not why we should come.”
As he said this, the kings’ elven advisor entered the room; every stride was like a fluid dance across the floor; she looked no more than fifty human years old.
Bowing towards the King, she spoke in the graceful speech of the elves, “You summoned me, your highness?”
“Ah Kas-andra, yes my son her has brought T’orn king of the Dwarves to our cause,’ replied the King gesturing to T’orn.
“A pleasure to meet you, T’orn,” she replied, “It has been many years since we met last.”
“You know each other?” asked the King at the same time that T’orn exclaimed, “I don’t remember meeting you before. How do you portray to know me.”
“I met you when you were, but a dwarven child, myself and a couple of elves had travelled to Darseholt to converse with your magi council on a matter, oh about two hundred and fifty cycles ago. I had the opportunity to speak with your father, and you were with him at the time.”
“Two hundred and fifty years ago?” exclaimed Prince Salistar looking first at Kas-andra and then at T’orn, reassessing them in a new light.
“Sal!” reprimanded his mother.
“Sorry, Kas-andra,” said a somewhat embarrassed Prince Salistar, realising how improper he had spoken.
“For your unspoken question, Prince Salistar, I am nearer my seven-hundredths solstice than my six hundredths. To be honest, after a while, we just don’t keep track of the number that well.”
Prince Salistar mouthed the words “Seven hundred” as he reached for his goblet and took a drink of the sweet wine within.
“I remember your visit now, Kas-andra; it has indeed been a long time. I hope dwarven and elven ties can be re-awakened once again. It would benefit my people to have more contact with the outside world.”
“So what brings the dwarves into the kingdoms battle with the goblins?” asked Kas-andra before taking a sip of her wine.
“The Oracles priestess came to me, just as I was about to dismiss the threat of Délíntra’s return, the priestess told me that the threat was real and that the dwarves and elves would be needed in the coming battle,” replied T’orn.
“If the Oracle has sent one of her priestesses to you, then things are dire; indeed,” turning to the King, “Your majesty, I suggest you mobilise the entire kingdom. Indeed any allies that could spare men should join with us. If Délíntra is trying to return, the whole world is at stake. I would also ask a boon of you, a ship to take me home. I must converse with the royal house.”
“Kas-andra, you shall have the next ship that is available at your disposal,” replied the King as he lifted a small bell from the table and rang the bell. As a page entered the room, the King spoke to him, “Go see the Chamberlain and tell him to organise a ship for the Lady Kas-andra, to take her to the elven lands.”
Bowing, the Page left, closing the door behind him.
“Should we travel with you, Aslarmore?” Asked Prince Salistar, “Maybe that is why we had to come?”
“I would say that the oracle knew we should meet for that reason, but I doubt if the oracle requires you to travel to the Elven kingdom, I will take all of the information along with me, My brother will listen to me and heed my counsel.”
“Your brother lady?” asked Prince Sailistar.
“Yes, Jalion-lasing-aloré is my brother,” replied Kas-andra.
“Wait? Prince Jalion-lasing-aloré is your brother? Are you telling me that all this time we have had an Elven Princess living here in the palace?” Asked a stunned Prince Salistar, his parents were also looking at Kas-andra in a new light.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Asked the King.
“To be honest, your highness, when I first arrived and took up the position of councillor of the King for your grandfather, It was common knowledge, but that was over a century ago, and everyone just called me Lady Kas-andra. It never occurred to me that you didn’t know. Like I said to my kind, I’m still considered young,”
The silence that descended over the room was only broken by the laughter of T’orn, quickly followed by everyone as they adjusted their thinking.
—
The rain finally stopped as the clouds gave up and broke apart, causing a beam of light to shoot through the only gap in the curtains and land squarely on Prince Sailstar’s face. Squinting, he tried to bring his foggy thoughts to a level of coherence that would allow him to understand first where he was and second who the hell he was.
Jerking away from the sunlight caused him to feel violently sick; on instinct, he reached under the bed and emptied his stomach into the chamber pot. The smell of the piss in the pot combined to make him wretch and vomit again.
Finally, his memories started to come back to him, he had stayed up drinking with his father and T’orn, but he had no memory of how he actually got to bed.
Seeing a tray of food to break his fast, he wrapped himself in a blanket and headed to his desk where the food waited. He was glad when he removed the towel covering the tray that it held simple foods that wouldn’t make him throw up anymore.
After pouring himself a glass of light wine, he set to with gusto and had almost finished the tray when the door to his room opened, and his mother entered.
‘Well, I hope you’re recovered; I can’t believe you tried to keep up with a dwarf when drinking.’
‘Ah, not so loud, mother, my head feels a little delicate this morning.’
‘I hope you’re not getting drunk when on a campaign? As that would not be a good example to set your men,’ replied his mother with a look of disapproval on her face that spoke as strongly as her disapproving voice.
‘Heavy drinking like last night is a flogging offence,’ he replied.
‘I’m glad to hear that, now if your finished breaking your fast, get dressed and come to my room, we have things to discuss,’ replied his mother in a tone he knew to mean that the Queen and not his mother had just told him to do something. From the tone, he assumed he would not enjoy the discussion.
—
Knocking lightly on the door to the Queen’s private apartment, Prince Salistar waited for the door to open. As it opened, he saw the face of Lady Swan, his mother closest confidant and friend. Her impassive face showed nothing that would help him know the reason for his mothers’ summons.
When he entered, he noticed that Ambassador Hikle was sitting in quiet conversation with the Queen.
“Yes, your majesty, I do believe that she would be the best match,” said Ambassador Hikle.
Understanding swept through Prince Salistar as he overheard the end of their conversation, and he knew the match they were talking about was with him. The image of Mal flashed into his mind along with the feelings of loss and sorrow as once wed, he would not be able to be with the woman he loved.
He grabbed those thoughts and feelings and shoved them down deep inside. He would figure out some way to be with Mal, but he said to himself, ‘Would you turn her into your Camp whore?’ Outwardly he turned to his mother.
“Mam, you asked that I might attend you this morn?” He replied formally to his Queen.
“Thank you, Prince Salistar, please sit; we have much to discuss,” she replied, just as formally gesturing to a seat opposite her while lady swan took the fourth seat.
“As you know,” she continued, “We have been searching for a suitable wife for you, one that will benefit the country. You will be pleased to know we think we have found the right girl,” her tone leaving no doubt that he would regret disagreeing.
Turning to Ambassador Hikle, she continued, “Ambassador Hikle, would you be kind enough to tell the Prince what you have just told me.”
“Of course, your majesty, my Prince, the kingdom of Duskil which lies far to the North across the Areian Sea, has a daughter of marriageable age, Princess Helena is eighteen summers and a beautiful young woman. She is currently not betrothed to anyone as her father is waiting for the right match. As you know, the mines in the spine produce some of the best Emeralds and diamonds in the world. I will take a selection of our finest gems as a betrothal gift. Your mother has just instructed me to open negations with King Drak, and I will be leaving on the evening tide.”
“I see, that is excellent news, but I only hear what they might get out of this; what are you hoping to get out of this marriage for Caplo?” replied Prince Salistar.
“King Drak has a sizeable army, and we may need them in the coming war; we also have a lot of trade with them, and this marriage would benefit both kingdoms.” replied the Ambassador.
“I see,” replied the Prince trying to hide his annoyance from his voice; a quick glance at his mother showed he had failed.
“Ambassador, you have my thanks and my leave to pursue this marriage; just don’t give away the kingdom in the process,” said the Queen.
Standing and bowing to the Queen and Prince, the Ambassador took his leave.
Before her son could speak, the Queen raised a hand in warning, “I don’t want to hear it. I told you that you would marry for the good of the kingdom. I hope you have not ignored our previous conversations on the matter?”
The silence hung in the air before Prince Salistar nodded his assent. Unhappy that he was unable to convince his mother that marriage to Mal would benefit the kingdom more. He did not look forward to telling Mal that the closeness that they shared was to end.
“Mother, with your leave, we will be heading back to Princetown to take leadership of the army,” replied Prince Salistar when he could speak while hiding his emotions from his voice.
“You have my leave, and son, I do understand, and I am sorry it has to be this way.”