Travis

Chapter 35 Duty can be a bitter thing to swallow. — Unknown Clan Lord's Estate Thwrud Subeleth October 25 It was time. When he woke up that morning, Syler could feel it in his bones. He had stayed here in Thwrud for as long as he felt comfortable doing it. If they were going to meet Lamastus before the end of the month, they needed to leave now. Even on hasuan, he wasn't sure that they could make it in time, but he meant to find out. The sun had not yet showed itself and Bronwyn was still asleep beside him. Syler disentangled himself from his wife's arms eliciting a quiet moan from her before she faded back to sleep. He quietly put on his clothes and an outer cloak. In the early days of living here, servants had desperately tried to wait on him, dress him, bathe him, and do everything for him but chew his food. After the first day, he had threatened to flog the next man or woman who tried to touch him. On the second, he banished all servants from his and Bronwyn's chambers whenever either was present on threat of the same. He noticed that his leg was feeling much better than it had in some time. It was still a little sore and he had seen the white scar before putting his pants on, but it felt almost whole. Instead of a sharp pain shooting up and down his leg whenever he put his weight on it, he only felt a dull ache. He didn't know what caused it and didn't much care because it made what he wanted to do much easier. It was now nearing the end of October and he needed to get to See Sei before Lamastus gave up on him and started back. He decided to put on the armor he had worn last night, and it wasn't entirely because Bronwyn said she liked him in it. He had no illusions that there would be plenty of people who wouldn't want to see him go and might even try to stop him. He wanted to present as strong and powerful an image as he could to dissuade at least some of that opposition. No matter what anyone said or thought, it was time to find his sister and Elements help anyone who tried to get in his way. Bronwyn woke with a start, immediately noticing her husband's absence like a cold chill that left her feeling exposed and vulnerable. She nearly always woke before him simply so she could enjoy the sensation of his arms around her or seeing his face when it was so peaceful and relaxed. In the last few weeks, sleep was the only time when he didn't look as though the cares of the world were upon his shoulders. That he was missing this morning was concerning enough even without the sense of anxiety that had been surrounding him this last week. His dreams over the last several nights had been increasingly centered around finding his sister. She knew this because what he dreamt, she saw with as much clarity as though she were staring at them through a window of the purest clear glass. She could see, but that glass wall prevented her from touching or interfering, even when Syler broke down into tears over the bloody body of his sister. She sat up and shivered. Her lips curved downward and wrinkles formed between her eyebrows. Was that his dream…or was it mine? The difference was important, extremely so. If it had been his dream, then it was nothing more than his subconscious mind playing into his fears and hardships. If it was her dream, then… No, it could not be. It had to be one of his, just like the others. Ever since the Temple, she had been linked with him so closely that she couldn't tell her dreams from his—assuming she even dreamed any longer. Even if it was her dream, that didn't mean anything. Almost all of her dreams were just that. The door to their room opened and her head shot up expectantly. When she saw it was just a servant, her shoulders sagged. The servant, a young man, nearly dropped the linens he was carrying and turned beet red. His head dropped straight down as if there was something extremely interesting on the floor that needed investigating. "[i am sorry, my lady, I believed you had departed with the master as you always do,]" he said in a quivering voice. There was a slight smile on Bronwyn's face as she remembered how Syler had exiled all of the servants from entering the chambers while either of them were present. He was rather fickle about people preening over him even to the point that it was hard for even her to care for him when he needed it. She didn't mind the servants herself because she knew they were simply doing their jobs and conducting themselves according to what was expected of them, but he was stubborn and felt people should do things for themselves. That smile quickly turned into horror as she realized that the man's reaction was due to more than fear of being whipped. His terror was due to the fact that she was sitting up in bed stark naked and exposed in front of him. She let out a squeak as she quickly pulled a sheet up to cover herself. "[it is not your fault,]" she said hurriedly. "[Go now and return in half a turn. Do not mention this to any and I will hold my tongue.]" He quickly bowed low and then scrambled out of the room, closing the door behind him. With cheeks still slightly warm, Bronwyn got out of her bed and dressed as quickly as she could. It would not have been any issue had the servant been a woman, such things were commonplace. But for a manservant to have seen his master's wife uncovered could be cause enough for him to be executed should the master desire. Not that she expected Syler to order any such thing, but the poor man wouldn't know that. Syler hadn't really been his normal self since coming here, but had been a colder, harder version of the man she had fallen in love with. Putting aside what had happened, she emerged from their chambers clad in a dark green wool dress and a cream colored fur shawl. With purposeful strides, she set out to find her husband and see what was so urgent that he had to wake so early. Along the way, she tried to keep her eye out for the hapless manservant so she could reassure him that he was not in trouble, but he was nowhere to be found. Her exploration eventually took her to the stables where she heard her husband's voice. She turned the corner of one of the servant's houses and saw him standing with his arms crossed in front of a rather furious looking sorceress. Even without her traditional blue and black face paint, she looked terrifying enough to set water on fire. Knowing her skills with magic, Bronwyn assumed that she likely could do just that if she wanted to. He was wearing that splendid armor from last night like he had been born in it and was no less threatening than she. They were in the middle of an argument and neither looked like they were going to back down. "Yes, I am," Syler was saying. "I will not see my sister in the hands of the Sua and Angvardi." "You cannot go," she said firmly. "I forbid it." Syler's brows shot up. "Oh really? Since when did you become the inthaley? It was you and your father who put me into this position, so now you have to live with it. You wanted me to act like a lord so now I am. I am deciding that I will not remain here while my sister is in captivity." She blinked once, but stood her ground. "There are responsibilities here that you must see to. Your power is not entirely solidified and there are dangers." "No," said Syler defiantly. "I don't owe the Krue anything." Bronwyn had seen him like this a few times and knew that not even the power of a master sorceress was going to make him budge. Vekla apparently either didn't realize that or thought that she could break through his stubbornness. "You are our lord and protector, the welfare of this clan is in your hands." He vigorously shook his head and made a slashing mark in front of him with his hand. "I didn't ask for it, nor will I accept it if it means I cannot get my sister. I have agreed to stay as your leader, but I have conditions for my cooperation. If you don't like them, then I will leave and never return." "It is your destiny," replied Vekla matter-of-factly. "You cannot escape it even if you tried." Syler gave her a thin smile and leaned toward her. In a quiet, cold voice, he told her, "The Elements themselves tried to force the notion of 'destiny' on me and it didn't work. I sincerely doubt that you have what it takes to top them." For the first time, Vekla looked unsure of herself. Bronwyn couldn't but help feel a small smidgeon of sympathy for her because she knew what it was like going up against his stubbornness. Unfortunately for the sorceress, she didn't possess the power that being Syler's wife and having his love gave her. Vekla stuck her chin up and retorted, "Prophecy has made it clear what you will are and will do, Syler Penion of Sandrin. Your future lies among the People." "I have read nothing in prophecy that says I can't go and find my sister. I defied the gods I believed in so that I may have a chance to rescue her." Showing a complete lack of concern for what he was doing, he jammed his forefinger straight into Vekla's chest just below her collarbone. "I will cut down anyone who tries to get between me and Karusa." Vekla's eyes narrowed as she tried—and failed—to swat Syler's hands away. Without her magic, she was not nearly as physically strong as a blacksmith who spent his days pounding at hot steel with heavy hammers. "I forbid this foolishness," she said in a voice dripping in acid. "I cannot let you go and get yourself hurt like a crazed fool." She tried once more to remove Syler's finger, but when she could not, she settled for grabbing his wrist in a white knuckled grip. Syler's voice took on a tinge of darkness that Bronwyn had never heard before. "I have endured your manipulations long enough, Vekla Saekoris. Do not stand there and pretend that you care one bit about happens to me, it is against the law to lie to your lord." She gaped openly at him, though her eyes were full of danger and barely restrained fury. He wasn't finished, though, and Bronwyn winced in sympathy for the other woman when she saw the stubborn anger on his face. "I am quite finished with you and Growald tugging me in different directions. I am tired of playing by your games and doing what you wish me to do rather than what I need to do. You made me inthaley, so now you must learn to live with that decision even if you don't like it." Vekla's dropped back down and she spoke in as threatening a manner as she could considering there was a man poking her in the chest and glaring at her. "Do not presume to threaten me. Inthaley or not, I am a Sorceress of the Black, recognized in Krue Vael. Even inthaleyin listen to when one of my rank speaks." "I don't care what others do. I am not like your other lords and I don't care what you are. You cannot stop me, sorceress, not without killing me and we both know you aren't going to do that." With a jerk of his arm, he violently broke Vekla's grip. Before she could react, he had grabbed both of her forearms in a grip of steel. Syler's biceps bulged as he lifted her a few inches off the ground and simply held her there at eye level. Bronwyn gasped as Vekla's hand darted for the knife on her belt, but the sorceress stopped herself before she pulled the blade free from its sheath. With visible strain on her face, she remained calm and glared into Syler's unblinking eyes even while her face began to turn red with humiliation. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead and her right eye twitched with the effort of restraining herself from taking a direct action against her lord that would truly doom her. Her black braids were a fury of motion behind her as she struggled in vain to get free without striking at Syler. Bronwyn ran across the small yard to her husband's side crying, "Syler, what are you doing!" "Stay out of this, Bronwyn," he growled through clenched teeth without taking his eyes off of Vekla's. "This is something that needs to happen." Realization dawned in Bronwyn's eyes and she realized what was happening now. This was more than just a disagreement over whether Syler would go after Karusa. It was a challenge between the two of them to see who was really the one in charge. Vekla, the mighty and feared sorceress, was facing off against Syler, a man who was perhaps the most stubborn Bronwyn had ever seen. Just as what happened with Growald, both needed to figure out who was going to be the leader and who would follow. Unlike with how she dealt with Growald, Bronwyn didn't think her interfering would do anyone any good here. Vekla remained stuck in Syler's grasp with her feet hanging a few inches in the air, but she refused to break. Even if her struggles ended, she too was stubborn and determined to do so regardless to the humiliating position she found herself in. She might have had enough restraint not to lift a hand against her inthaley, but that didn't mean she had to submit to him meekly now that he had challenged her so directly. Sorceresses were a prideful lot and extremely dangerous if threatened or pushed. Syler was not so angry that he didn't realize this. Though his voice lacked none of the determination that it held before, it was softer when he said, "Lord Saekoris trusted me to take over his position, Vekla. If you truly believe he was a wise man, then you must believe he would have wanted you to follow my lead just as you followed his." Vekla's head twitched slightly at the invocation of her father's name. Her eyes were still narrow with fury and her lips were pursed in defiance. Her hand fell from the hilt of her knife, though, and for that Bronwyn was glad. Seeing her continued opposition, Syler grimaced and added, "Think, Sorceress, if you force me to cast you aside, then you will not be able to guide me. All that you worked for until this point would be for naught. Would you be so prideful that you would leave me alone simply because I refuse to let you lead me around by the nose?" he scoffed. "I thought you were wiser, more dedicated, and more true to your word than that." That last part was cold, biting, and without a shred of mercy, but he did not seem to care. He was as hard as steel and was not going to back down one bit. After several long seconds of silence, the air went out of Vekla's lungs and her body went limp in Syler's grip. For the first time since he had grabbed her, her eyes drifted downward in defeat. Seeing this, Syler nodded and set her gently back down on the ground. As soon as his hand left her forearms, she took several steps back while a quiet hiss escaped her lips. Syler stood tall and triumphant in his black and gold Kruish armor. When she looked back at him, he began issuing his commands as though he had been doing it all of his life. "I will be going after my sister. I may not be an experienced warrior, but I am no fool. I won't be going alone, nor will I leave Thwrud without leadership." He crossed his arms as he continued, "Havert shall remain behind as my gaelkadrada." Discussions with Lord Horadin had revealed that whenever an inthaley had to leave his seat of power, he left behind a gaelkadrada to speak in his stead. When he had asked, he was told it was a brother of the soul, but that it also had something to do with a voice somehow. Syler wasn't completely sure of its meaning, but he took it as a sort of regent or representative. "I trust him completely and he knows what I would want done. Lord Horadin will be here to advise him. I will be going with Delmonor and ten of his finest warriors as escort because while I don't want to be defenseless, I also want to avoid confrontation out there. Growald will also be going along in case we need his connections with the Seinari. If you want to join us, I suggest you get yourself ready because we leave in two hours." Without even pausing to hear her response, he pivoted smartly on one heel and marched off back toward the estate proper. Bronwyn stood pale and aghast at how her husband had behaved and briefly debated whether or not to go to Vekla to smooth things over or follow in his footsteps. She turned to follow, but Syler was already halfway back to the estate. Hiking up her dress, Bronwyn rushed after him leaving the sorceress behind. Leaving Vekla behind had not been easy. Syler knew that she was a dangerous individual and someone he definitely did not want as an enemy. It was more than her danger that made him hesitate. She had even saved his life at least twice and probably a few more times that he wasn't completely sure of. There had been a hushed report about some minor nobles having turned up rather murdered in a rather gruesome fashion in their own houses. He suspected she might have had something to do with that after her display in the Clan House that first night. He had no doubt that if she wanted to, she would easily be able to kill him even without her magic, but he didn't think she would. It wasn't that he didn't want or need her as an ally, it was that he couldn't keep putting up with how she was running roughshod over him all the time. He had allowed himself to be cowed for too long by her and Growald and it was time for it to end. How could he call himself a leader and yet be terrified of his advisors while in his own house? He was the inthaley and it was time for him to start acting like it. He had put up with their nonsense for too long because he was too afraid of making a mistake. No more, though. Maybe it was the improved condition of his leg, or perhaps the wonderful night he had spent in Bronwyn's arms that made him feel as good as he did now. He felt more like himself than he had since before the Shalktra had dragged his wife away in Kubei. His victory over Vekla put a bounce in his step and got his spirits up. At long last, he was going to go after his sister as he had wanted to for months. He wasn't going to be skulking around alone or with Bronwyn, trying to hide from any random patrol and afraid of his own shadow. No, he was going after her as a Kruish lord atop a hasuan and with soldiers and a sorceress watching his back. Even more, when he found Karusa, they wouldn't be hiding out in the mountains, scraping for a living and hoping the Angvardi or some band of bandits didn't discover them. They had a place to go that was safe and would keep them sheltered from the Easterners. It was more than he could have hoped for at the start of this month. Bronwyn caught up to him and gave him an undecipherable look while they walked. He knew she probably wouldn't understand and he didn't want to start a fight, so he said nothing. "Were you going to tell me?" she asked a bit harshly. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "You knew it was coming," he said. "Lamastus is out there waiting and we don't have long before the end of the month." "Were you going to tell me?" she repeated. There was no mistaking the coldness in her tone. "Yes, I was." They took several more steps in silence before she replied. "When?" There was hurt in her voice. Causing Bronwyn any pain was the last thing he ever wanted to do. He didn't want it to be like this, but he couldn't leave his sister forever. She would get over whatever hurt she felt at not being told, but Karusa may not get over being a virtual slave. He fought back another sigh and replied, "I was planning on finding you when Vekla caught me. I am sorry, Bronwyn, but this is something I must do." The hurt in her voice didn't retreat at all. If anything, it only grew deeper. "You weren't planning on taking me at all, were you? But you promised me that we would never be separated again. You gave me your word, and now you would leave me behind here while you went into danger." Syler kicked himself for not seeing it earlier. She wasn't hurt that he didn't tell her, she was hurt because he wasn't taking her with him. He stopped and faced her when he responded, "This is not going to be a pleasure trip, my love. As you said, it will be dangerous." The hurt had now been joined by anger, "Don't 'my love' me, Syler Penion." Her hands were on her hips. "You gave your wife your word. I have never known you to go back on something you promised. Not once." "I didn't mean you would be attached at my hip for the rest of our lives. Would you expect me to have you at my side even in battle?" She gaped at him, but before she could retaliate, he pressed on. "Yes, Bronwyn, I said 'battle.' I am a Clan Lord now and if everyone around here is right, I am something more besides that. Only an absolute fool would think that I was not going to have to lead men into battle now that things have started. Do you mean to join me when the arrows are flying and men are dying?" She didn't quite seem to know how to respond, but that didn't stop her from snapping back at him. "I don't want to be left behind like some useless trinket," she crossed her arms across her chest and glared at him. "You might be able to browbeat sorceresses around, but I took no oaths to serve you like she did. We are partners in this, Syler, and partners don't abandon each other." Syler grimaced and took a small step back, hoping to get a little more distance from her. That didn't work because she took a larger step forward that put them closer than before. "What do you want me to do?" he exclaimed as he thrust his arms out in exasperation. "Do you want me to let you go with us even though you may get hurt? There is likely going to be fighting along the way and in fighting, people get hurt or killed." His voice broke and his throat clenched shut in fear. "Do not force me to see you lying on the ground bleeding again. I did that once, I don't know if I can do it again." Some of the anger left Bronwyn's eyes, but not all of it. In a quiet voice just barely above a whisper, she replied, "Do you think it will be any easier for me here if you don't ever come back? I wouldn't even know what really happened to you. I won't be able to hold you when you are in pain and comfort you. You aren't the only one who has been forced to see the other lying on the ground covered in blood, neither are you the only one who has taken care of the other." She grabbed him and buried her face in his chest. Even before Syler could wrap his arms around her, he could feel her heave in sobs. "I am sorry, Bronwyn," he said soothingly. "You are right. I am not the only one of us who has taken care of the other." "Please don't leave me behind," she begged between sobs. "I can't…" He could not say any more for the lump in his throat. He had only once seen her truly weep like this, and that had been after the unspeakable had happened to her in Kubei. It had broken his heart then and it was even more potent now. They had always had a mostly agreeable relationship. Even during their first few days together, when they had been strangers, both had been courteous and accommodating out of a mutual desire not to have a miserable life together. They had a few arguments such as the one that happened the night the Shalktra came into Kubei, but most had been mild and both quickly apologized. For the most part, they got along well and laughed frequently as they faced life's challenges together. He had made the mistake of lashing out at her once before in anger. The look on her face at that moment had been enough for him to regret it immediately. Her resulting silence and avoidance over the next two days was almost unbearable. He knew he had made a mistake, but his pride and stubbornness had kept him from truly apologizing. He had tried to make as though everything was fine, but she wouldn't even let him hold her at night as they had done every night together since the first fight with Growald. In the end, he could take it no more and broke down with an apology and promises never to speak to her like that again. She had stood tall, staring down at him on his knees in their chambers, and remained firm for several long, hard minutes. At last, when his frustration was enough to bring forth tears, her stony face softened and she pulled him up into a warm kiss that made her forgiveness clear. If her angry silence had been enough to make him repent and all but grovel at her feet for forgiveness, seeing her weep against him like this was enough to make him want to tear his hair out. He might have done just that if his hands hadn't been wrapped around her. He simply could not bear to see her like this at all. It was a weakness that he knew he might one day regret, but at this point, he would do anything if she but asked. He would forsake any vow, every responsibility, and every duty if it would make her stop. That thought alone terrified him because included in that was his duty to save Karusa. How had she come to mean so much? She was his wife, true, and he loved her, but Karusa was his own blood. He had thought nothing was more important than saving his only remaining family, but somewhere in the darkness of his heart, someone had come to mean as much or more to him. How could he even think about leaving Karusa? It was unconscionable as far as he was concerned, and yet, he was here willing to do just that if only it would stop Bronwyn from crying into his shoulder. Should he consider himself weak for reacting like this? Some would say he was. They would say that if a man couldn't stand to see a few tears from a woman in order to do what needed to be done, he was not truly fit to be called a man. He also thought that there may be some who would say the opposite and would argue to the death that his willingness to do anything for the woman he loved was the ultimate sign of worthiness as a man. He didn't know which one was better and right now, he didn't care. All he cared about was making Bronwyn stop crying. "What do you want?" he implored in a soft voice as he stroked her long, beautiful light brown hair. When she didn't immediately reply, his spirit and dignity broke. Looking up at the ceiling in desperation and fighting against the lump in his throat, he croaked out in a hoarse voice, "Tell me what you want and it will be so. Anything, my love, just please stop crying." Syler held his breath, waiting for a response. He had began to see stars at the edge of his vision by the time she responded weakly, "Take me with you. I must go with you." His heart dropped, yet he was strangely elated. At that moment, if she had demanded he stay in Kubei with her, he would not have had the strength to stop her. He would have still attempted to rescue Karusa by sending someone in his stead, but he didn't truly trust anyone else to get the job done. Maybe Havert could have done it since he actually knew what Karusa looked like, but he could no more part him from Alltis than he could now leave Bronwyn behind. "Okay," he whispered as he kissed the crown of her head. "You can come with us, but you must do as you are told." She tensed in his arms, but did not pull away. "I am not going to risk you getting hurt if there is fighting. You do what you are told and you can come." She tightened her grip around his waist for a brief second before stepping back to hold him at arm's length. "Thank you," she said between sniffles as she wiped tears from her face with the hem of her sleeve. "I promise I will do as you say. I don't want to ever be apart from you again, I don't think I could bear it." He reached across the gap and wiped a newly sprung tear that escaped her eyes after she had wiped her face. With a loving smile, he said, "I don't want to be separated from you, either, but there may be a day when that has to happen." "I know," she whispered. "Just not today, please." Syler smiled sadly. "No, not today." He leaned forward to kiss her on the forehead. She tensed causing his brow to crease, but not for long. She gently grabbed his face, tilted her head back and pulled him into a long kiss that nearly healed the tear in his heart. He didn't know how long they stood there in each other's arms, but it was not to last forever. "Bwet ley!" a voice called out from behind them. With regret written plainly on her face, Bronwyn broke their latest kiss and smiled meekly at him. Syler was warmed by the sight of the color on her cheeks and rapid pulse of the veins on her neck. It felt good to be able to get that reaction out of her even with what was going on. Even though he would rather have spent more time with his wife, Syler didn't have to force a smile once he saw the intruder coming toward them. Lord Fedas Horadin walked up at a rapid but measured pace until he came up alongside his lord. The man's long light brown hair briefly covered his face while his head was dipped in a bow. When he rose, Syler looked into his intelligent green eyes. So many others he had dealt with were hesitant to meet his gaze or, if they did, looked nervous and constantly shifted their eyes back and forth as if hoping to escape questioning. Not Horadin, he always met Syler's eyes without pause and held the gaze for as long as Syler was looking at him. "Bwet ley o leya, if I might have a moment of your time." If he noticed how flushed Bronwyn was or how quickly she was breathing, he had the wisdom not to comment. Syler did notice that when he had addressed her, some color did touch his cheeks and his eyes were downcast. Syler thought he was a good man, sensitive to what was going on around him, but not one who would put aside business or things that were important unless it was absolutely necessary. If he came here now, without an audience, it was important enough for him to give him his ear. "Lord Horadin," said Syler calmly, hiding all irritation at their interruption. He started to say "how can I help you" but caught himself before words came out of his mouth. He was still getting used to being a leader. It wouldn't do for a lord to constantly be asking how he could help others when they should be there to help and serve him. That was one of the few things that Horadin had agreed with Growald and Vekla on. "What concerns you?" he asked. The Krue smiled briefly when Syler caught himself, but that didn't last long. "I have heard the most odd humor that you have made plans to leave Thwrud." "'Rumor,'" Syler corrected. Horadin blinked, "Fuswau?" "The word is 'rumor' not 'humor,'" Syler explained with slight bemusement. "You heard a rumor that I was leaving." "I thought 'rumor' meant secrets in your tongue, bwet ley," he asked cautiously. Syler shrugged, "Not really, no. It means, well, bits of gossip you have heard. Stories, perhaps, would be another good way to define it." "Then I have heard stories that you were leaving, is this true?" "Yes, I am," Syler stated. A pained look crossed Horadin's face. "I thought we had speaked of this. It is unwise of you to leave at this dangerous time." "I know, and I am sorry that it has to be this sudden, but I must leave. We made plans for this. Havert is to be my gaelkadrada and you are to be his advisor." The Krue didn't appear to be happy at all. He dry washed his hands as he responded nervously, "There are many things happening that need your attention, Lord Penion. I understand that Lord Jakaras has your trust and is loyal, but he is, well, bwet ley, he is…" "Difficult," Syler finished when Horadin's voice trailed off. "I understand, my friend, I truly do. If anyone knows Havert's propensity for laziness, it is me. Nonetheless, he is the only non-Krue here whom I can trust, unless you think Alltis would be better." The Krue blanched at that. "Lady Jakaras is a fine woman of high spirit and great sturdiness, but she is a woman and cannot be gaelkadrada. There are many reasons why there are no gaelfaeas." "And why is that?" demanded Bronwyn with a sniff of indignation. Lord Horadin bowed quickly toward her and said hastily, "I mean no offending, bwet leya, but many clans have had great…misfortunes when led by an inthaleya. It is ill fortune to be led by a woman. If her husband was particularly strong and loved, it may be possibles, but no with you, bwet ley." His eyes darted back toward Syler. "I fear your position is too fresh, too unprotected to allow for a gaelfaeas, especially one not of your blood or marriage." Syler waved his hand in dismissal to forestall any further protests from Bronwyn. She generally did know the order of things, but on occasion, she could grow rather defensive about the strangest of things. He didn't have enough time for an argument, not if they were going to leave as soon as he hoped. "It does not matter, Havert is my chosen one, I expect you to serve him as well as you have served me. Do so and you will be rewarded upon my return." Lord Horadin's head dipped once more. "I need no reward to follow you, bwet ley. If I may ask, when are you departing?" "I leave in two hours if all is ready." Air hissed between Horadin's teeth when he heard that. "There are many things that need your attention here, bwet ley. You cannot afford to leave so soon when things are this unsettled." He was right, Syler knew. If he had any other choice, he would never have left until things were far more set and some of his plans had come to fruition. There were plenty of people who would be more than happy to oust him if given the chance, and it was hard to defend his position if he wasn't even in Subeleth. "I must get my sister," he said defiantly. "Vekla tried to stop me and I left her in the dust. I like you, Lord Horadin, but that doesn't mean I will let you or anyone else stop me from getting her." He should have known that the other man would latch onto his comment about Vekla like a hawk. "What do you did with Mistress Vekla?" Lord Horadin asked insistently. Knowing that he might as well as get it over with quickly, he decided not to avoid it. "She wanted to prevent me from going after my sister by attempting to assert authority over me." His voice hardened as he continued, "She overstepped herself so I put her back into her place and reminded her that I was the inthaley, not her." With a mixture of bemusement and pride in her voice, Bronwyn quipped, "He picked her up like a child and held her in the air kicking pointlessly until she backed down." At Horadin's stricken look, Syler hastily added, "I did not hurt her, but I hope it will be some time before she challenges me again." Horadin swallowed audibly and said with a hesitant voice, "I do not believe it was wise to offend her, bwet ley. She is your most powerful ally. Without her, you would certainly be dead now. Why, after hearing what happened to Lords Baganeth and Faredel, many who were considered plotting against you recanted of their disloyalty and are firmly under your control." "So that was who she flayed and burned," mumbled Syler to himself. Louder, he said a phrase he had heard many times here, "Neith fos, fos." What is, is. "There is nothing to be done about it now. I trust that you will make do in her absence. I know there are many who do not wish to be led by a foreigner, but that is not their choice any longer. Fate has put me in this spot, any who can't accept that will be cast aside." He drew a deep breath and said with as much authority and confidence he could muster. "Do what must be done, Lord Horadin. If there is any doubt, spare their lives, but do not hesitate to imprison any whom you suspect. I will deal with them all when I return." In the face of such a direct command, the Kruish noble could do nothing but bow and say, "As you command, bwet ley."

Yea. Okay, there is an explanation for this that I put up on DA, but I forgot to put it here. Long story short: I have decided that I must cut the material in the first book once more and push even more into Book 2. Instead of three parts, the book will have only two and be roughly 40 chapters. That also means that the material you saw in the first draft will be pretty much the entirety of the second book as I am ending it with the Battle of Thattos and the effective end of the Kruish Civil War. The book as it is was getting far, far too long (longer than any of the Wheel of Time books) and so I shall make a trilogy into a quadrilogy. Along with reading the Wheel of Time, I have been in one of my off cycles regarding inspiration and motivation. As I may have mentioned before, I tend to get in phases where I focus heavily on a single thing for a month or two. That can be a video game, a particular TV series (that I have the boxsets for), a book series (such as the Wheel of Time), or writing. I had a small spurt of writing inspiration a couple of months ago after watching Smallville, but that faded and was replaced by reading the Wheel of Time. Fear not, though, I am already feeling a major writing inspiration coming on and will be finished with the WoT tonight. With this new decision to divide the books, I need to rework the last few chapters a bit so they can provide a proper ending and transition into the next book and without motivation, it makes it hard to do that right now. I hope to have a new chapter within three days and am hoping on a major spurt that will see ten to twelve chapters added or edited in the next month.

Not sure how you think bore is better than boar. Bore may mean to punch through, but calling someone a boar (or rather, pig) is quite a common saying, especially in this time period and location (evergreen forest). It is like calling someone a pig, but in this time period, it would be a boar since that is what they called wild pigs who were rude, grumpy, undomesticated, violent, dangerous creatures.

Yes on the let/yet mixup. No on the next. I definitely meant "boar" as in: http://www.greatnorthernoutdoors.net/stuff/contentmgr/files/1/7adb613f8a9c85c2898f4358b3495aac/misc/boar.jpg Honestly, I believe that describes Growald quite nicely in both appearance and in attitude (especially from Vekla's point of view). Yes on the comma as well, I will get that fixed in the master document ASAP. I had another section like this later on after coming back from getting Karusa. It had some similar stuff with him ruling and changing things, but I wanted to start slowly. Right now, Syler has little actual power and most of what he does have comes from fear of Vekla (I explain in a short time). He can't make the sweeping changes he wants to make because he doesn't have the support and, at this point, he doesn't know what he wants to do or how to do it. And yes, I did add a little to the armor part. Not much, but a little. I put more into Vekla's description of what was going on and how that worked, so if that was what you were talking about, then yes, you were right in that I added to it.

Sorry about the long delay. This chapter has been finished for a while, but I didn't want to put it up until it had settled a bit. I have hit a sort of slump for now, but I don't think that will last long. I tend to write in cycles with something else in between to distract me and allow me to recharge. Sometimes it is a TV series, other times it is a game or a book series. Last was the entire Smallville series, now it is the Wheel of Time. However, usually, after I finish my temporary obsession, I come back hard with the writing, so I am not worried. I had to rework this chapter several times, especially since it is quite out of place from the original. Originally, I had most of these scenes taking place after the confrontation with Vekla about leaving. This time, I put it ahead and, since there has been a good deal of time that passed since his arrival (something not present in the previous version), I wanted to fill that with something. I have just finished the preliminary on the next chapter with most of the one after that finished. Chapter 36 will end the second section and we will be moving onto the third, titled: "Rescue and Repercussions." I have a LOT of changes and new material planned for that, so it will be most fun. Note: I know Lord Horadin's speech is odd and doesn't quite make sense. I point that out right from the start (you will see what I mean when you read it). That being said, please do not point out grammatical or tense errors within his speech because they are intentional (language barrier is a killer, ya know?). _______________ Chapter 34 Ka Kavero ka Tengraleth vostso sakte laengasi. The Dance of the Blade heals many wounds. — Kruish proverb Clan Hall Thwrud Subeleth October 24 "There will be no more discussion," Syler said angrily. "My word is final." He allowed for Delmonor to finish his translation before waving the petitioner away. The man who was even now being dragged out by two burly guards had been wanting to be given more time to pay off his debt. He had, as was every Thwrudil's right, been given a loan by Lord Saekoris to offset a poor season of crops last year. He was supposed to have sown and tended a field in the common lands last spring to help pay for that loan. The man had planted the field as he was supposed to, but he failed to care for it and the wheat had all failed. As result, he was not able to raise enough money to pay his debts. The man argued that he had been sick and barely able to tend to his own fields much less his share of the common plot. Syler could sympathize with that as his own father was frequently sick and unable to work during his last days. Sometimes, the Elements guided things against men for reasons known only to them. Syler had the greatest mercy for those who were suffering. However, what Syler could not abide was laziness and drunkenness. Since he was not familiar with the various people within the city, Syler frequently asked the city guardsmen and women who were familiar with the citizens in the city as to the nature of those who came before him. Three guards swore that the man in question frequented taverns and was often seen wasting his time gambling and smoking with his friends even during daylight hours. Before coming here, Syler spent every day from sunup to sundown working in a hot forge. He had no patience for those who squandered their life with gambling, games, or drunkenness. Therefore, he had sentenced the man to forfeit part of his lands to be sold and the money used to pay off his debt. The man had been devastated as it meant that he would likely not be able to support himself or his family. Syler had sympathy for the man's wife and children, but their suffering would be due to the man's faults. He had dryly suggested that his older children join the army and that his wife find some way to make money, but he would not budge from his opinion. A man had to own his actions and if he failed that, then he had to pay to make it right. It had been three weeks since he had the burden of the leadership of this clan forced upon him. He had no love for what he did, but that was part of his agreement with the Elements in exchange for Bronwyn's life. Just as that man must suffer the consequences of his agreements, he had to carry his end of the bargain by doing what he didn't want to do. His mood had been poor those first several days and he made no apologies for it. His leg hurt and he was still furious at what had happened. The Krue had wanted him to lead, so he did and he was not afraid to pour out his wrath upon them. So sour was his mood that even Growald was generally cautious whenever he was around and Havert frequently tried to avoid him. Alltis, ever the peacemaker, made a few attempts to intervene and soothe over harmed feelings, but it was hardly enough. She eventually gave up and was content to stay out of Syler's way. He snapped at Bronwyn just once. After the scolding and the stony silence she turned against him for two straight days, it was a mistake he did not make a second time. His surrender against her did not go unnoticed. After having partaken of a great amount of liquid courage, Growald joked that the only person in Thwrud that Syler was afraid of was the Kutii woman who shared his bed. Syler did not disagree with his statement, but Bronwyn wasn't the only person or thing he feared. The wound Lord Saekoris gave him took two weeks to heal enough for Syler to walk without a cane. The Healer Woman—whose name he still didn't know—tended to him twice a day with such skill that he had no cause to issue complaint. She was disappointed that her potions were not more effective and seemed confused until he pointed out that if she had used magic on them, it wouldn't work against him. After hearing that, she gave a huff and put away almost all of her potions and herbs saying that she would have to make all new ones with more potent ingredients. Now, the wound had closed up and a vicious white scar taken its place. He could walk on his own now, but he still had to be careful. The skin was still tender and he didn't want to tear it once more. The muscle itself had mostly healed, but the calf didn't quite feel the same. The Healer Woman said that it would take a few more weeks before he was completely recovered. His foul mood and short temper actually turned out to be a mixed blessing because many of the Krue who were arriving from elsewhere in the Clan's Holdings were far more malleable after they started hearing the stories that spilled out from the Clan Hall daily. It started the day after he was forced to take power on his first day in what Havert jokingly called his court. The longhouse had been packed full of various men and women each wanting something or giving a list of demands. On both Vekla's and Growald's advice, Syler refused to acknowledge any of them until they pledged themselves to him. That seemed to work, especially when he muttered under his breath that it would be nice to have one stubborn minor noble who refused to submit stripped of all but his breechcloth and thrown outside. Delmonor dutifully translated what he had said. He had only been frustrated and meant nothing by it, but his guards took him quite seriously and carried out the deed without hesitation. Syler had nearly panicked when he saw that, but a thin smile from Vekla gave him pause. From that point on, nobody refused to swear allegiance and Syler was careful about joking around these people. That wasn't the only reason why people began to fall in line. When it came to judgments over various minor crimes, Syler proved to be quite tough. He had always felt that a man should work hard if he was capable and had no sympathy for those who didn't or who felt entitled to steal from others. Thieves soon came to think twice before stealing anything in Thwrud after Syler ordered several of them to be flogged and forced them to repay thrice what they had tried to steal. If they couldn't pay, they were forced to work for the one whom they tried to steal from until the debt was paid off. Drunken revelry was also not tolerated because Syler had seen all too often what came of it. Despite Growald's protests, or perhaps because of them, Syler decreed that public drunkenness would earn someone a night in the stockades. With an early winter on its way, all but the most foolish decided to stay within their homes if they wanted to get drunk. Various tavern owners were not happy and Delmonor was pale when he heard of the new dictates, but one look from either him or Vekla was enough to silence all opposition. The Inthaley's word was law and if they didn't like it, they needed only to look at what happened to Lord Yaegran and his supporters to remind them of that fact. Syler started the most whispers for how he judged the man who had beaten and raped his wife for some trivial reason that didn't matter. When the bruised and bloodied woman was telling her story, Syler needed to glance only once at Bronwyn in order to make up his mind. While the woman continued, he couldn't get the image of his beloved wife sitting in that storage yard in Kubei, beaten and abused, out of his mind. Without any hesitation, he met the husband's eyes and declared that he would be summarily put to death by beheading. He even ordered everyone in the longhouse outside so they could witness it. He could not understand how any man could do something like that to his wife, no matter what she did. When the man's head had been thrust up on the end of a pike in front of the longhouse, Syler declared that any other man who dared to force himself upon a woman would die in a similar fashion. With fiery eyes, he also said that any who dared to beat their wife or any other woman would suffer a flogging and a week in the stockades. Every night, a minor noble within the city by the name of Fredas Horadin would come to the Clan Lord's estate and tell Syler of news that he would not have otherwise received. Lord Horadin had somehow gotten Vekla's approval and proved to be one of Syler's greatest allies. At thirty-five years old, the man wasn't quite as old as most of the other lords, but he was intelligent and crafty when it came to politics. There was much that Syler needed to learn about the subtleties of politics, especially Kruish politics, and Lord Horadin seemed willing and eager to teach him. Oddly, Syler found that he didn't usually mind dealing with him, even if most all the other nobles made him want to scream and throw them into the streets. Having Lord Horadin's support in private was refreshing in more than one way. Fredas was young and was what most considered to be a radical when it came to his ideas. Unlike most of the Krue, Lord Horadin had gone out in secret to observe the Sei and learn from them. It had been a decade since he had left Subeleth, but he still remembered the Common Tongue enough to be able to converse with Syler in it. He was nowhere near as bigoted against outsiders as the rest of the Krue which is probably why he was so quick to support Syler. That contrasted entirely with Vekla and even Growald. Both were willing to support him in public out of a desire to maintain solidarity and prevent him from looking weak. However, in private, they chastised him for every decision they didn't agree with and treated him as a wayward boy. Despite the pledge of truce at the dinner table the night he arrived into Thwrud, Growald didn't hesitate to show his contempt for Syler's inexperience—though he only did so when Bronwyn wasn't around. More than once, Syler had stormed away from them and taken refuge in his chambers where not even Growald dared enter without his express permission. Poor Delmonor had been caught in one of those arguments and didn't know where to turn. He stayed out of politics as much as possible, but as Syler's translator and chief bodyguard, he was constantly pressured to give his opinion. To his credit, he continued to express faith in his inthaley, but it was clear that he didn't have any desire to do battle with either Growald or Vekla. Havert tried to add his weight in favor of his best friend, but that didn't go over well with either of them. If Vekla viewed Syler as a disobedient pup, she saw the redhead as little more than an annoyance. Growald didn't pay him much heed and on more than one occasion, ordered him outright to shut up using his authority as an officer in the Seinari. Syler didn't care much what they thought of him. He was growing more and more tired of what anyone except Bronwyn, Havert, and perhaps Alltis thought of him. He might have included Lamastus in that category, but the Angvardi had been gone since the start of this particular situation. As far as he was concerned, all of the Krue and Growald could just live with him. They were the ones who put him into this situation so they would just have to live with the repercussions. As time went by and Syler's leg healed, he began to relax a little more. Without him even realizing it, he had fallen into a routine. With familiarity came comfort and an improvement in his mood. He even caught himself enjoying evenings when he could sit in front of the fire with Bronwyn in his arms and a fur blanket wrapped around them both. It was a good way to end his usually stressful and frustrating days and he really began to look forward to it each night. Syler noted the position of the sun and let out a long sigh. "That will be all for today, Delmonor," he said. There were several others who were waiting for Leydaethal, or the Lord's Judgment, but Syler was tired of this. His leg was hurting and the constant, dull pain gave him a headache. One of the few perks of being in charge was that he was able to decide when Leydaethal was over because, after all, he was the lord and nobody wanted to press him after he said he was finished because it was entirely within his power to make any ruling or sentence any punishment he desired. While Syler had let to lash out against any petitioner with an overly harsh punishment, nobody wished to test his patience after the reputation he earned in his early days. Once the guards cleared the longhouse, Syler and his own escort went to his estate. He was about to go into the main hall when he caught sight of Saledaur Torrvel. The steward gave him a discreet shake of his head that caused Syler to groan. Vekla, Growald, or both of them were waiting for him, doubtless eager to give him some new piece of "wisdom" while telling him how he should do things their way. It didn't take too long for the saledaur to see how his master reacted to such meetings before he started warning him of their presence. Even though Torrvel could be annoying and too eager to please, Syler had come to like the man for that fact alone. Rather than deal with either of them, Syler took a left and began wandering through the estate. It wasn't large enough to hide in forever, but if he was particularly clever, he could manage to spare himself half an hour or so of lecturing. It wouldn't take long for the two of them to start looking for him. Hiding in his chambers wouldn't help, either, because then they would know he was intentionally avoiding them and their reprimands only grew worse. The servants, doubtless thanks to Torrvel, wouldn't offer any help in tracking him throughout the estate, so that gave him a chance by saying he didn't know that they wanted him or claiming to have had other business in whatever room he found himself in. Normally, he would just pick a door at random and just stay in the room it led to. This evening, he found himself in the estate's armory. It wasn't the largest he had been in by any means, but it still was interesting. The armory for the company from Sandrin was many times this size, but it was also meant for a hundred men. This armory was supposedly meant just for him and whatever guards he choose to equip, so its rows of weapons and armor were more than enough to impress him. An idle thought slipped into his mind and he paused. Everything here was his to do with as he pleased, so what harm would there be in trying some of the armor on? He had never worn armor as fine as what he saw here and it might help give him the fortitude to deal with Vekla and Growald. At the very least, it might give him the illusion of protection against their criticisms. He ran his fingers over several sets that were identical to the ones that his personal guards wore and started whistling a tune to himself. With one of these, he might be able to simply slip past the two unnoticed. He entertained that thought for a few moments before disregarding it. The guards would know and they would stop him, then he would look the fool. While these sets were well made and sturdy light armor, ultimately, they were not of interest to him. Instead, he was drawn to a set of armor at the back of the armory that was put up on its own stand. This was something he had never before seen among the Krue. On first inspection, it looked like normal black leather armor, but it wasn't. There was metal in this armor and that was not something the Krue normally used unless it was mail. This was no mail, though, it was some sort of plate armor. The plates were smaller and thinner than normal, but were complemented with some of the hardest boiled black leather that Syler had ever seen. The leather covered almost all of the steel, but stopped along the edges allowing some of the metal to show. The leather, like almost all of the leatherwork made by the Krue, had ornately decorative but strange, extremely complex symbols embossed in it. The gold rivets that held the leather to the metal beneath were also arrayed artistically in a pattern that Syler couldn't decipher. The most prominent decoration on it were the two hasaun that each framed one side of the breastplate with their horns meeting just below his collarbone. While the armor itself was beautiful, that wasn't what caught Syler's attention. Something drew him to them that he couldn't explain. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could sense that there was something special about this set of armor. When he reached out to touch it, he felt a jolt of energy that coursed through his veins right down to his toes. He didn't know quite what made it do that, but he knew that he wanted this armor. It was as though it were beckoning for him, begging him to put it on. He took his time in doing just that. As he put on each piece, he looked and felt every part to see how it fit and functioned. The armor was impeccably made and was probably finer than what the Seinari generals wore even without the magic imbued into it. When he finished lacing up the last greave, he stood up and moved around to gauge how it fit. It felt comfortable, solid, and most importantly, it allowed him to move freely despite being heavier than the leather armor he had worn when fighting Lord Saekoris. The next thing he wanted was a weapon. There were plenty of weapons here so he would have a good selection. He quickly passed the spears and pikes and didn't spend much time with any axes. He focused in on the swords, the weapon of the elite. He might not be well trained in their use, but he had found one to be quite effective in the Temple of Kubei. He could always learn how to use it properly, but no respectable leader or officer would be without. He couldn't find any swords that drew him like the armor, but he did pick one that looked sturdy and well built. It was a simple longsword, one that was longer and a bit wider than the swords he had seen the Kruish warriors carry. He swung it a few times to get the feel of its weight and balance and found that he liked it. The metalwork was solid with an encapsulated tang to prevent it from breaking. Its hilt was firm black leather that had been applied in a seamless fashion that Syler very much wished he knew how to craft. The fuller ran three quarters of the way up to the blade to reinforce and lighten it. It was still sharp, though not so sharp that it weakened the edge. He strapped the tooled leather belt and the scabbard it held around his waist and paced around the room a few times to get used to its feel. When he was satisfied, he decided that he wanted to see how it felt in a good workout. If he was going to have to hide from Vekla and Growald, he might as well as have a little fun while doing it. Besides, they would suspect that he was in the estate first and search it thoroughly before thinking to go outside. With a cautious glance down both sides of the hall, Syler crept out and stealthily made his way to the nearest exit. Once outside, he could move more freely. One of his guards snapped to attention and was about to call for others to form an escort, but Syler stopped him with a raised hand. He went off into the garden in the back of the grounds alone and found a fairly secluded courtyard that gave him plenty of room to move around in. He didn't have any targets, but he didn't need any right now. Instead, he just started swinging the sword in the complex patterns he had learned back in Sandrin during those precious few hours he had been able to hold a sword. He practiced blocks, parries, different styles of striking, and more powerful swings. The armor took a little getting used to and slowed him down. He needed to wear it as much as possible so he could grow accustomed to its weight and balance if he was ever to be able to wear it in battle. It was almost startling to think of going into battle again, but Syler knew that such a day would come regardless to what he did. Only a fool would ignore what was coming. An hour passed, then another and he was covered in sweat despite the cold in the air, but he didn't stop. He had the strength to strike with great power, but he lacked the finesse needed to accurately direct his blows. With an axe like what he had mainly trained in, that wasn't so important. All one had to do with an axe was to aim at the enemy's midsection or head and swing. As sword required more control to get its maximum potential because it wasn't designed to serve as a crude bludgeoning weapon. As he labored, his moves grew more fluid, more precise, and more controlled. He began to see the moves in his head and simply did what he envisioned. It was odd, but there were times when he could have sworn that his hands were moving of their own accord. He was well familiar with muscle memory, but this was not quite that. It felt good, but it also perplexed him because he wasn't sure what to make of it. It was almost as though he was learning things faster and easier and he wondered if it had something to do with whatever powers he had acquired recently. Whatever it was, he enjoyed it and wanted to do more, so he continued until the sun was dipping low over the horizon. Bronwyn had spent much of the afternoon as she normally did, taking it easy and recovering from her ordeal both in the Temple of Kubei and on the month long journey here. Even though Syler had healed her injuries, it would take a long time to regain her weight and recover her strength. With so much of Syler's time taken up by his duties as inthaley, she rarely saw him. It helped that Alltis and Havert were frequently around. She hadn't been especially close to either before coming here. They had all three been left out of things for the most part and therefore had little to do but talk with each other. Alltis made some connections with some of the local women and Havert was frequently pestering the storytellers who spoke some of the Common Tongue, but generally, the two of them stayed in the estate with her. As it grew late, she began to worry that she hadn't seen Syler since going to see him in the Clan House for lunch. She wondered what was taking him so long there as he normally returned before darkness. When she ran into Growald and was asked by him where her husband was, she immediately began to worry something was wrong. After escaping the Seinari's presence, she found Torrvel and asked where Syler was. He gave a sly smile and said something about his master contemplating the burdens of his office, a code she had learned meant hiding out from Growald and Vekla. She went around the estate asking servants if they seen Syler, but none had. At last, she came upon a servant who claimed to have seen him outside and went searching for him there. After pulling an extra coat across her shoulders, she ventured out into the night. A guard confirmed that Syler had gone into the gardens and hadn't exited, so she went straight there. She saw someone moving around in the farthest garden and cautiously headed that direction. At first, she didn't recognize the figure running, rolling, jumping, and dodging around the yard with a sword in hand. When the man turned toward her and saw that it was Syler, her heart skipped a beat or two. She had seen him in armor only one time before and that hadn't been his best day. He had been confused, uncomfortable, angry, and overwhelmed with what was going on around him. Not now, though. Now, he looked comfortable, happy, and sure of himself as he made swing after swing against invisible enemies with a determination that took her breath away. The armor he wore was magnificent and seemed to fit him perfectly. The sword in his hand gleamed in the brilliant pale light of the great moon Sor and the lighter red of Fedan had a strange effect on the gold in his armor. His defiant, challenging voice rang out as he charged time after time into the lines of whatever enemy he was envisioning. To her surprise, he didn't seem to be favoring his wounded leg at all. It was as though he was back to full strength even though she knew it still pained him. He was so enraptured in what he was doing that he didn't notice her. That was fine with her because she was content to just watch him going about his paces uninterrupted. She knew that he had trained some with his militia back in his hometown, but she didn't know he was this good. He had been holding himself back during their flight from the Temple, probably out of concern for her wellbeing. She had been able to see the warriors of her village demonstrate their skills in the Contests and believed that Syler was a match for the best among them. Watching him was beautiful, but she could tell that he was oblivious to what was surrounding him and was wearing himself out. As the hour grew late, the air became chillier and a shiver running up her back made her realize that Syler wasn't wearing any coats. He was just wearing his armor and was sweating from exertion. Fearing that he might stay out here all night and catch a sickness, she stepped into the clearing and called out his name. Syler jerked and nearly stumbled to the ground when he heard her. "Bronwyn!" he said breathlessly. "What are you doing here?" "It is late, you need to come inside," she said. He stood there panting for a minute as he looked around at where he was. "I didn't know it was so late," he said at last. "I like the armor, it looks good on you," Bronwyn couldn't help but say. "You never told me you were such a warrior." Fedan's light accented the blush on his cheeks. "Thanks," was all the response he could muster. She reached out and touched the breastplate and allowed her fingers to trace the designs of the hasuan on them. His chest was still heaving, but he remained silent and reached out to touch her cheek with a gloved hand. "You shouldn't be out here so late with this cold," she whispered. "I just kinda got carried away," he said. Bronwyn could detect a bit of nervousness in his voice and in his eyes by the way he kept looking back and forth, but not directly at her. "I know, I watched you," she admitted. When he frowned, she quickly added, "I was only there for an hour or so, but I couldn't stop watching you." "Really? I didn't think I was that amusing." She laughed softly, "No, you weren't funny. I had never seen that side of you before, at least not in a controlled sense. I saw a glimpse of it when you were fighting Growald, but nothing like it since. You were strong, completely focused on what you were doing, and, if I might say, very attractive. I wish I could see this side of you more often." If they were in the light, she was sure his ears would be crimson by now. Though they had been close every night, they hadn't made love since the night he had healed her, since the night before he had to kill Lord Saekoris. At first, it was because of the wound on his leg. Later on, either he had been so angry over something the Krue wanted or she had been too exhausted. Seeing him here like this tonight had stirred that longing once more and she decided to act upon it. With a smile that she knew from experience that he couldn't resist, she drew closer to him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She stood up on her toes and kissed him despite his surprised expression. His responding kiss reflected her own desire and intensity. Vekla was bordering on furious and all of the servants knew it. While they tended to avoid her gaze in the best of times, now they were scampering around frantically trying to get out of her way as she prowled the halls of the estate. When Lord Penion seemingly had not returned to the estate at nightfall, she grew suspicious that he was once again avoiding her in another of his childish games. She ran across Delmonor which confirmed that Lord Penion was present on the estate grounds, but the loyal lapdog had not been able to offer much help as his attention was focused on where he could get the next cup of ale or leg of turkey. She shoved him aside in disgust and was about to continue her search of the estate when she sensed a small shift in the flow of magic. It was faint, causing her to cock her head slightly to better hear it. She had not expected to feel this particular magic so soon, but the Spirits moved at their own time. She froze and listened to the flow as only those attuned to sorcery could. For a few seconds it hummed with power that would attract the necessary attention for its mark. With one last flare of energy, the flow was cut off. The edges of Vekla's mouth rose in a rare smile. For the flow of magic to end suddenly as it had meant only that the desired recipient had received it. She still didn't understand how he managed to do it, but understanding was not necessary. The smile slowly faded from her face as she stalked toward the armory, intent on confronting Lord Penion. Her hand was on the armory door when she paused and reconsidered. Much was not known about the Majiyae Oretezu and how he would react to events in his life. Having just discovered the armor and the enchantments surrounding it, she was curious as to which way he would turn. Instead of going in the room, she retreated. Syler emerged shortly thereafter resplendent in the armor meant for him and him alone. It was a slight shock seeing him wearing it. She admonished herself slightly for such a feeling, however fleeting it had been, because it was meant to be his from the beginning. She buried her emotion and quietly followed him until he exited the estate. She watched through a window only long enough to determine he was heading to the gardens before whirling around and heading toward the front door. She would see what he was up to, but she didn't want to be followed. There were ways to get back onto the estate grounds without even the guards noticing. The Sei lout, Growald, spotted her darted ahead to block her path. "Where do you think that boy went off to tonight?" he asked in his typically abrasive manner. Perhaps he thought that by winking at her, he was being co-conspiratorial or even endearing, but it wasn't going to work on her. Spirits only knew why a crass creature such as this was selected to be the Guardian. In the three weeks she had the misfortune of knowing him, he had proven to be nothing but a boar in every manner. He constantly tried to manipulate Lord Penion against her and in favor of his own ridiculous notion of reclaiming the Sei Kingdom. Fortunately for them all, Lord Penion was not foolish enough to go asking for trouble when he had plenty enough where he was. "Vangroos bwe set, gakrell," she snapped. That only elicited a tsking sound from him, "Now there, missy, you should learn to have better manners than that." The multiplicity of his annoying traits also happened to include a knowledge of the Sacred Tongue. She assumed it had to do with his being a Torelatat, but that made it no less bearable. Refusing to wait for him to profane her native tongue with his own crude accent, she switched to the Outsider's Tongue. "He is not in the estate. Even if he had been, I would not tell you of it." "Not tell me?" The buffoon sounded hurt, though she knew it was merely a deception. "But we have so much fun together." If he was referring to the contempt filled arguments they often had with each other or with Lord Penion, then her understanding of the Outsider's word "fun" was entirely in error. She snorted at that. "I have no time for you, stand aside on your own or I will make you stand aside." To emphasize her point, she held her hand up. Small arcs of energy shot between her thumb and forefinger. If there was one thing she knew that got under his skin, it was threats of any sort. Normally, it caused him to become quite defensive to the point of aggression. One warrior who had given him some sleight which turned into a flurry of threats and shaking fists. That warrior and four of his friends ended up needing the healing woman, and all who watched thought they had gotten off lightly. She was no half drunk warrior, though. She was a sorceress of the highest level, a fully recognized Mistress, a master of her craft, and entitled to wear the black. For some time now, she had been wanting Growald to give her a reason to squash him like a bug and humble him. It was only because of the blue Ritdenmarq he wore that she hadn't yet disposed of him. Even if Lord Penion might have use for him, she would only allow herself to be pressed so far before taking action. The Sei had a strange sort of twinkle in his eye that made her wonder if he knew what she was thinking. For a moment, she thought that he might actually take her up on the challenge. Instead, with a flourish of his hands and an elegantly insincere bow, the Seinari backed away. "Very well, my mistress. Have it your way, then." Leaving the disappointment of his meek reaction behind her, Vekla continued her purposeful march out of the estate. As soon as she was out of the watchful eye of the guards, she circled around and found one of the secret paths her father had showed her back onto the grounds. She was a mistress of the night with her black hair and robes, none would ever see her. She crept up to where she heard the rustle of leather on metal and the singing of a blade. Working her way silently through the hedges, she caught sight of her target. He was whirling around in the twilight, lashing out with his sword in an incredibly complex pattern that seemed familiar. Her breath left her when she realized what he was doing. It shouldn't have been possible, but there was no mistaking what Lord Penion was doing. He was dancing ka Kavero ka Tengraleth, the Dance of the Blade. There could be no mistaking it now that she knew what to watch for. He might not be doing it well, but he was indeed dancing it despite having no way to know how. She would never have believed it had she not been here witnessing it herself. Her mind began to flash back to that time when things were not yet known and Syler Penion of Sandrin was merely another outsider. She had spotted an armed group of men racing toward the Sacred Forest on their inferior mounts and decided that the risk in engaging them was minimal. Her patrol was eager for battle and this encroachment was sufficient cause for her to act. When they emerged from the forest and got closer, she realized that it was not one group of foreigners coming at them, but two. Curiously, one of those groups sheathed their weapons in the face of her charge. That alone would have given her pause until she realized that they were dressed as Sei and those following them were Easterners. She was intrigued enough to redirect the attack against the Easterners, leaving the Sei to be interrogated. They had chosen not to flee while the Easterners were slaughtered, not that it would have mattered either way. When she choose to strike out at the lone Easterner, one of the Sei had decided to foolishly intervene. Upon further reflection, perhaps it had not been foolishness at all that guided his hand, but rather fate. Her fireball left him untouched and changed her life forever. Once the Bolteros revealed himself, she knew that destiny had indeed touched her. When it became clear to her that Syler was the one who she and her ancestors had been waiting for over two thousand years to come, she had known what difficult road was ahead of her. She knew what role Lord Saekoris would have to take and grieved for him even as they rode to Thwrud. She had wished that it wasn't true, but his display of raw power when saving his woman was proof enough to even the most jaded of observers. Nobody simply gained access to the Immortal Realm that easily and never alone. It normally took an entire circle of elders to allow someone to gain access to the Spirits, but he did it on his own and seemingly on his own terms. After he was sent to this very estate, she had been left to spend her last hours with her father. For a time, she had considered pleading with him not to sacrifice himself, but she knew he would not listen. He was set in his purpose, just as she was. Despite that, knowledge, it was still hard to let go of him. She had been in many battles, killed many men and women, and had seen friends die, but she didn't want to lose her father, the last of her family. Even as the two of them returned to the house she had spent her early years in, he kept exhorting her to remain true to what purpose they both had. He was to sacrifice himself to teach the Majiyae Oretezu how to not just absorb spells, but to reflect them. Even more importantly, it was his intent to set Syler upon his destiny. Should Syler slay the Inthaley of Thwrud in such a manner, he would confirm himself to all gathered that he was indeed the Majiyae Oretezu. Prophecy had dictated as much and there was no escaping it. It was also critical for him to sacrifice himself so that Syler could take his place as leader of Clan Thwrud and start his path to greatness. The end of Lord Avenil Saekoris' journey would be the beginning of Lord Syler Penion of Sandrin's. Before he was to die, her father wanted to impart one last gift to the Majiyae Oretezu and for that, he needed his daughter's skill with magic. They had gone into the armory and used his own armor for the incantations. It was one of the most difficult things she had ever done. As a sorceress, Vekla was very familiar with the arcane arts of enchantments and imbuing objects, so that was not difficult. It was not even challenging to etch the time consuming symbols into the hardened leather. The difficult part had been what she was imbuing the armor with. Lord Saekoris had once been a mighty battlemage. He was skilled not just in the art of magic, but also in traditional combat. He had vigorously defended his clan from all threats and earned a reputation as a fierce warrior that helped protect Thwrud from other clans even after he grew too old to ride on patrols. More than one man had thought to challenge him for rule and fallen before either his magic or his blade. Lord Saekoris knew this and wished to make use of that knowledge once again. In one last act of sacrifice and devotion to prophecy and the purpose chosen for him, he gave up his knowledge of fighting and swordplay. With Vekla's help, they imbued his armor with all of his skills, his strength, courage, and his experience. Each piece was filled with his own essence and power at his own expense. He was more than willing to give of himself so that the Majiyae Oretezu might benefit from it. There was not a moment of hesitation or an ounce of doubt in him while they worked. Her father had insisted that she not lead Lord Penion to the armor, but allow him to find it on his own. She didn't understand why, but he had made her swear to it. At first, she had been worried that he wouldn't ever find it, but he assured her that he would be drawn to it on his own. Once he found it, he would slowly use his ability to absorb spells to take in her father's skills. The more he used it, the more he would draw upon them and the more powerful he would become. It wasn't a permanent transfer, though. As soon as he stopped focusing or took the armor off, he would retain only a little of the skills he was now displaying in the courtyard. He would have to learn like any other, though the armor would help guide him and perhaps save him when he was in danger. The irony that she found him practicing in this secluded garden courtyard was not lost upon her. This was the very spot where her father often went to be alone. It had been his refuge, one of the few places that none dared enter without his permission. It was as though Lord Saekoris' spirit were guiding him to this very spot and driving him to use the armor he had left behind. With intent curiosity, Vekla remained hidden where she was watching him to see if he would refine his skills. She hadn't been disappointed. Though his first half hour had been sloppy, he was absorbing her father's abilities with alarming speed. Within two hours, his form and execution had the skilled precision and grace of a true master. Even if he didn't seem to notice it, she took note that he was no longer favoring his injured leg. It had been said that ka Kavero ka Tengraleth was a balm to the soldier because it placed their mind and body at harmony with the worldly elements. She wasn't so sure about it as she had never experienced any sort of great benefit beyond extra focus while practicing it. Regardless to her opinion, Lord Penion's leg seemed to be bothering him no longer. She wondered if he had subconsciously tapped into some element of her father's healing skills that had been imbued into that armor, but she wasn't so sure. He hadn't put his knowledge of magic into the armor, only his skills in traditional combat. Vekla immediately noticed Bronwyn's arrival even though Syler himself was too wrapped up in what he was doing to notice it. She had silently willed that the other woman not interrupt him and was glad when she didn't. Sitting there allowed the sorceress to contemplate Bronwyn's role in things. From what Syler had said about the Elements during his visit to their realm, it was clear that the Kutii's purpose had ended. Yet, despite that, he had intervened and saved her life at great risk to his own. He wouldn't say exactly what he had to do in order to accomplish that, but she wasn't sure it was for the best. Everyone had a purpose and when they deviated from that, they ran contrary to the natural order of things. Her father had devoted his life to his purpose as the Ulaen Fequilbat and sacrificed himself when the time came as he should have. She had similarly devoted her life to being the Rebastaq and made her own sacrifices. She had done so willingly, but it was difficult to do, especially now. Something her father once said came back to her. "You cannot force the One to bend to your will, Vekla. If you try, his power will overwhelm and consume you. Best to step aside and follow him from behind, guiding him only when necessary and never running contrary to his path." He had said those words after a particularly embarrassing and humiliating interrogation. Even though she spent most of her life away from him studying with the other sorceresses, he knew her well enough to sense when something was wrong. She was bound never to lie to her lord, so when Lord Saekoris had inquired as to the nature of her discomfort, she had been forced to tell him. When he heard her confession, a rare look of sadness crossed his face. He rested his hand atop her head and held it there for a long time. He did not cry outwardly—he never did—but she knew that he wept for her. To her relief, he did not try to convince her of the foolishness of her dreams. He merely warned her that the road she choose was to be a hard one full of uncertainty. She did not mind because she had set what she wanted to do. That had been before she met Syler Penion of Sandrin. Now, she knew that it was too late and that she had been a fool. Lord Penion was not the man she had expected, but even that could be overlooked with time and patience. No matter what she wanted, though, it would never be as she had hoped, all because of her. To say that she was jealous of her would not be accurate, but it did sting some. At twenty-nine years of age, it was likely too late for her to reverse her course. She had chosen this path and she would carry it out to its final destination. Looking back, she wished she had never taken the first steps along this road, but the foolishness of youth could not be undone. She had resolved herself to be alone, but that wasn't too bad. At least this way, she could fully devote herself to guiding and even protecting the Majiyae Oretezu as he clearly needed to be. His future was full of danger and he would need her skills to have a hope of surviving. Vekla was pulled out of her memories by Bronwyn's calling her husband's name. She watched while the two of them spoke briefly, then embraced. She turned away just before they started back toward the estate, hand in hand, because it was too painful to watch any longer.

Not really. I look at a few similar maps on DeviantArt for the occasional idea, but I don't use tutorials or any other guides. I just fiddle around and try things out until I get what I want.

Yes, it should be hyphenated, I just missed that. And most definitely yes, this information will be used later on. Most of the interactions between Aitin and Fenniel are to help develop his character a little and will be referenced later. The stuff at the start will be important later in the next book when the Terulan Civil War breaks out. All of the mentioning of various Houses and their ties will be relevant when all hell breaks loose. Did you manage to read the chapter previous to this?

Well, I am quite proud of this chapter. I took a 1000 word section of the first draft and expanded it into a full 6000 word chapter without fluff (at least, I don't think it is fluff). I think this makes poor Aitin a lot more sympathetic and full of a character, something that has been needed since he is, at least now, a background figure. ______________ Chapter 33 Throughout history, there are those whom the gods have preordained to do great things. Those men and women are given the blessings of the Tetrarchy themselves to fulfill quests and do great deeds in their name. Blessed are they who are called upon by the gods for while their path may be full of pain, their rewards are eternal. — Great Heroes of Ages Past by Valsig Moortain Dunsurt South Equab Kingdom of Terula October 14 The great city of Dunsurt was sometimes known as the Capital of the East due to its size and prominence. It was, in truth, the capital of the Terulan Realm of the East, but that alone wasn't what gave the city its nickname. Dunsurt was a massive city in both size and population with extensive trade routes and fortifications to guard them. Its towering walls and the imposing keep at its center housed Lord Daenmoss Olbak and his garrison of an entire corps numbering over twenty two thousand soldiers. Dunsurt was also the home of House Olbak, the House that controlled most of the Realm of the East. Prophet Aitin had been required to learn the histories of all the major cities in both Terula and Angvard while he was young. Not only did he have to know their pasts, but he needed to know their present place in things as well as which House controlled each. Such things were always useful to prophets in interpreting prophecies in proper context. It was always important to know which House controlled which cities and what their past interactions with other Houses were. Sometimes, if a prophecy foretold of great strife between Houses, but only gave clues enough to identify a specific region or city, the prophets would need to know the history of that region and who its rulers and rivals were. Only then could they make an educated guess as to the source of that strife would be or what might set it off so that they could recommend ways to prevent it. On each side of gate was a large banner bearing the sigil of House Olbak, a white warship on a blue background denoting how the Dunsurti navy was the strongest in all of Terula. On the outside of those two were smaller banners showing the red crossed scythe and sickle of House Gavaste. House Olbak was a traditional ally of House Gavaste which had territory in the neighboring realm of North Equab around Hopenstad. The two houses had long banded together to protect themselves from Angvardi invasions and through that blood and sweat, were closely intermarried. Armies from both houses were among the largest due to necessity. Only a few of the Royal armies rivaled theirs in terms of numbers and skill. Even after peace with Angvard, such men were needed to ward off threats from the islands of Ragos to the east. It wasn't the protection of armies or the rich merchants hawking their wares in the streets that drew the escaped prophet to this city, it was the extensive fleet of ships anchored in its harbor that brought him here. He needed to get a ship up to the Angvardi city of Lavisha over thirteen hundred miles north and going by ship was the quickest and safest way. Even counting the risk of an attack by Ragosi pirates who roamed the Casmeuric Sea with impunity, it was safer than a single man trying to cross on foot. The largest issue facing him was a severe lack of funds. As it was, he had been just barely living off of the land as he traveled. A kind farmer had given him a spare blanket and some food in exchange for an afternoon of help, but generally, he kept to his own on the road. Coming into contact with others was dangerous even though most commoners would never be able to tell a prophet from an ungifted. A lone man traveling was a target for all manner of bandits, cutthroats, or thieves in the wilderness. He had not come here without a plan, though. He knew someone in Dunsurt that could be persuaded to help fund his voyage if she could be convinced of the urgency of his task. Fenniel was a conjuror who healed minor injuries, made simple magical potions, and dabbled in basic alchemy. As a conjuror, she wasn't nearly as powerful as a mage, but she did have some of the magical gift that enabled her to make a living. Truth be told, she was only slightly less powerful than prophets themselves, and he thought that was perhaps why she was so kind toward them. He had met her eleven years ago when she was training in Terula City. All of the gifted who received training in one of the adjunct branches of the College of Mages or College of Wizards repaid their education by serving in the ranks of Prophet's Guard for three months. After her education had been complete, Fenniel did her time as a guard for the Tower. Though she was over a decade his senior and had great authority over the prophets, she had been kind and compassionate towards him and her other wards. Unlike most of the guards, she tried to treat the prophets as human beings rather than threats. One night when he was up late talking to her, she revealed that she had always hated mages and wizards because they looked down on a simple conjuror such as her due to their far greater power. Whether it was his ignorance or the sweet red wine from Sasevurg they had been sharing, he found himself relating to her and agreeing with her position. Mages and wizards were frequently used to guard the prophets and never missed a chance to flaunt their powers. In a quiet voice, she confessed that she never did like how prophets were locked up and closely guarded while wizards, with all their power, were allowed to roam free. Despite returning to her home in Dunsurt, they still kept in touch. Aitin had nearly fainted in shock when he received her first letter because he had thought never to hear from her again. He had quickly written a reply and began what would become a regular series of correspondence letters. The Royal Mail was fairly efficient and was able to deliver a letter once every three weeks to a month despite the more than eleven hundred miles that separated them. Throughout their correspondence, they had to be careful because all outgoing and incoming letters in the Tower were read by the Prophet's Guard to ensure that no dangerous prophecies were getting out. If their true sentiments had been made public, they could be in great trouble. Aitin knew her well enough to catch hidden meanings in her words that let him know she still had the same feelings toward the prophet's imprisonment and disdain for the wizards who lorded over the magically gifted. He had arrived at the city just as the bottom of the sun began to touch the top of the outer walls. It was chilly in this mid-autumn day, but Aitin was used to the cold by now after spending so many nights curled up in a ditch or under a tree wrapped in his blanket. The city was large, nearly as large as Terula City, so finding Fenniel was going to take a good amount of time unless the gods were with him. He spent the next three hours asking the various merchants and citizens for directions, but Aitin finally found where she lived. He took a deep breath to calm his fluttering heart before knocking politely on her door. It was after dark now, so he didn't think she would be in her shop or running errands. His guess was right when she pulled the door open and peered out at him with the light of the candle she was holding. "I am closed. Come back tomorrow if you need anything." "Fenniel," he said with a crooked smile, "it's me, Aitin." "Aitin? Aitin!" She flung open the doors and thrust a small candle toward him to give her a better view of his face. Her eyes widened in surprise and she quickly looked down both sides of the street to check if anyone was with him. "What are you doing here?" "I need some help, Fenniel, and you are the only one I could turn to." She hesitated for a few moments, then grabbed his shirt and pulled him in. "Get in here before someone sees you." Once inside her small house with the door safely bolted behind them and the curtains drawn, he was able to get a good look at her. She was a handsome lady with beautiful brown hair that came down to the top of her shoulders. She might not have been a stunning beauty by most men's standards, but to him, she was breathtaking. Standing there looking at him, he couldn't help but remember what else had happened that night with the wine when she confessed her distaste for how prophets were treated. By the time the Sasevurg wine was finished, it was growing late. There was no curfew in the Tower of Estar, but most prophets preferred to start the day early so things were pretty quiet within an hour or so after dark. They had been sitting next to each other in a private, rarely used study where they would not be overheard or seen. Fenniel had been talking about Dunsurt, the sea, and some of the things she liked to do there when she paused and looked intently into his brown eyes with her own vibrant green ones. She placed a hand on his thigh and flashed him a wide smile that made his skin grow warm. She then leaned forward and whispered into his ear something about being lonely this far from home. He hadn't quite understood what she was meaning until she stood up, took both his hands in hers, and led him back to her quarters. For the month that she remained in Terula City, they spent as much time alone together in each other's arms as possible. Now, standing here in her own house, eleven years later, he could feel the same tumult of emotions washing over him. He didn't see or hear anyone else in the house, so his heart began to hope that she had never found a husband. In all these years, he had never been able to feel about a woman as strongly as he did in that bittersweet month spent with her. It had been truly hard for him to see her go. Despite his pleas, she insisted that she had to return back to her home when her service in the Prophet's Guard was complete. With so many mages and other students in Terula City, there was no demand for her services so she could not make any money. Aitin pleaded with her to join the Prophet's Guard permanently, but she couldn't bear to spend her years guarding over men who she believed had done no wrong. Aitin had wept on the last day when they were together in his quarters. She didn't try to calm him, but held him close against her breast and ran her fingers through his hair. He fell asleep that way and, when he woke, she was gone. "You should not have come here," she said, though the expression on her face lacked the sternness of her voice. "I know," he mumbled in response. "I-I just couldn't turn to anyone else. I missed you, Fenniel." She nodded just once before stepping forward and kissing him. She was tall enough that she didn't even have to tilt her head back much to reach him and her arms were still as strong as he remembered them. When the kiss ended, she stepped back and wrinkled her nose. "It is good to see you, Aitin, but you sorely need a bath and a good shave. What happened to the smooth skinned boy that I used to know? When did you start wearing a beard like that?" Aitin was glad for the tangled beard now because it hid the pink spreading across his cheeks. "I have been traveling a long time, Fenniel, and I don't have money for inns. The creeks are too cold for bathing unless I want to risk freezing to death. It got cold at night and fires were dangerous because they could attract the wrong people." "That just will not do," she replied. "Here, let me get you something to eat while I prepare a bath for you. You look half starved." The prospect of hot food and an actual bath was extremely appealing after weeks going without. He felt awkward having her serve him like this and couldn't just sit down at the table. He tried to help, but was only getting in the way, so Fenniel gave him a look and he found himself sitting quietly at her table without further complaint. Once seated, he began to take in her small house. The main room was furnished with two chairs and a padded couch that he assumed she performed her healings on. There were several shelves full of various potions and charms that he knew she sold. There was a recessed portion of the house where he was currently sitting in that also contained a kitchen. There was another door to the side that seemed to lead off into a bedroom. It was larger than the quarters he had been given, but it was still cozy and well lived in. Everything he saw fell in line with what he had always pictured her house. After his first sweep, he began to take things in a little closer, trying to identify as many potions and items as possible. Then, midway through his exercise, every muscle in his body stiffened and the hair on his arms stood on end. Sitting on a peg beside the door were two outer coats. One was cut in the common fashion for women, but there was another that was clearly meant for a man to wear. He could not imagine why she would have a man's coat in her house. It wasn't from a guest because there was an extra peg for it and nobody else was here. Was there a man in her life that he didn't know about? Their letters often revolved around discussions of magic, but on occasion, she mentioned a few personal things. Even then, he was aware that there was a great deal about her life that he didn't know. He tried to keep himself from panicking. For all he knew, it was a brother or cousin who frequently visited and happened to forget his coat today. "I see that you have a man's cloak by your door," he noted cautiously. "Are you expecting your husband to return soon?" That sounded a little strange, so he quickly added, "I would love to meet him." Fenniel didn't respond immediately and Aitin couldn't keep his heart from racing. When she finally responded, it was with a heavy voice. "I was married once. He was a good man, but it was not meant to be." Aitin couldn't help himself. "What happened?" As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wished he could recall them. "He died." That was all she said and Aitin didn't dare press further. "I could not bear to remove his coat, so it has hung there all these years." He remained silent, embarrassed for his insecurity and angry at himself for bringing that hurt back into her life. "I am sorry. I never knew." She gave him a forced smile, "It isn't your fault, I never did tell you. It just didn't seem right considering everything. Our time together was so short, I couldn't bear to mention it and burden you with my grief." "I wish you had told me," replied Aitin. "But I understand why you didn't." "Thank you," she replied. A few more minutes of silence passed before she sat a bowl of hot vegetable soup and bread before him with a glass of pear juice to wash it down. "It isn't Sasevurg Red," she said with a slight grin, "but it is sweeter than water." Without having to force gratitude into his voice, he replied, "It is wonderful. Thank you, Fenniel." She acknowledged his thanks with a wider smile. "I will go and draw you a bath while you eat." Before he could even finish, she had returned. Heating water was not so difficult even for a conjuror, but Aitin knew she couldn't have gathered the water so quickly unless it was already there. They caught up while he finished, but the conversation was kept light. They had a lot to catch up on, though Aitin was careful not to broach the subject of the husband she had found and lost since they had last seen each other. When the food and drink were gone, he yawned and stretched. She arched a brow and gave him a seductive look. "I hope you aren't too tired after your travels. It has been a great while since we have been together, I would hate to spoil it." The first time she had approached him this way, he had been a young man of just eighteen years. Having been found by the prophets when he was but six, Aitin grew up in the Tower with very little contact with women. Fenniel had been the first to really show him any true attention and he had never regretted a moment of it. "You are still interested, then?" he asked. His voice rose at the end and he kept his eyes on her own. Fenniel sighed and pushed aside a strand of her brown hair that had gotten into her face. "My husband has been dead six years, Aitin. I have been alone here ever since with only your letters to carry me through those dark times. There are not many men who could ever live with a woman who can cast magic, even the small amount that I am capable of. My only other hope was to be able to bring in money and show them that I could provide for them. Without the wars, there is not so much need for my services. Healing potions and protection wards used to be the mainstay of conjurors. Few men would be interested in a woman who can cast magic and yet, is poor. As it is, I can only just barely keep myself fed." Aitin shifted uneasily in his chair. "I am sorry, I did not know. You never mentioned this in your letters." He felt especially bad because he had come here asking for money. If she could hardly support herself, then how would she be able to give him silver for passage to Lavisha? She waved his words away. "I did not want to burden you. It isn't like they pay you in that damned tower, so what could you have done?" He reached across the table and clasped her hand in both of his own. "I could have done something, Fenniel." "Not likely, but I appreciate your intent. There is no need to be so depressing, not now. Come, my sweet Aitin, there is a bath waiting for us." She stood up and, now holding onto his hands, pulled him behind her just as she had that first night. "For us?" he repeated. Both of his brows went up at her inviting smile. She bit her lower lip and gestured at the back door and the steaming tub of water through it with a tilt of her head. Aitin did not resist at all when she led him there and began stripping off is filthy clothes. The tub wasn't large enough for her to join him, but she did help him clean the hard to reach places…as well as a few that weren't so hard to reach. A good bit later that night, the two of them rested comfortably in her bed. He was clean and had shaved with a handsome woman in his arms. For the first time in months, Aitin was at peace and felt safe. He didn't have to worry about wolves or bandits coming across him while he slept. Nor was he cold and hungry, but rather warm and content. "I miss your touch," Fenniel whispered into his ear. "You were so young then, so innocent. Now, you have grown and matured like good wine. You are still sweet, but with far richer flavor and passion." Aitin kissed her to hide another of the blushes she was so adept at bringing out of him. "There has never been another woman, Fenniel. I only ever loved you." He could feel her stiffen against him for a moment, but it quickly passed. "You are a good boy, Aitin. No, you are a boy no longer; I shall call you what you are: a man." He took a deep breath and started to say, "Fenniel, I wanted to—" "Hush, my sweet prophet," she whispered again. This time, she placed one finger over his lips. "Do not spoil the moment. Just sleep, my dear Aitin. I promise, I will still be here when you wake." He wanted to argue, but she wrapped her left arm and leg around him to pull him closer into her embrace. When she was satisfied, she rested her head on his shoulder and remained still. He held her in silence, gently stroking the smooth skin of her back with his free hand. Eventually, he fell asleep and dreamed of pleasant things. The next morning, she was indeed still there in bed with him, just as she promised. He waited until she woke up before kissing her. They made love again before finally getting out of bed. She barely had time to dress and wash her hands and face with warm water before a young woman arrived seeking treatment for a minor burn. Aitin remained out of sight while she conjured a simple spell to take the sting out of the burn and heal the damaged skin. After receiving a few coppers in return, she bid the woman a good day and closed the door behind her. Without pause, she went about preparing breakfast, again rejecting help when Aitin offered it. "You would just get in my way," she said with a playful smirk. They ate some eggs and a few strips of bacon with tea before the next customer arrived seeking a potion or such. The next few hours went by with sporadic customers arriving, being treated or finding what they wanted, and leaving. The two of them rarely had more than a few minutes alone. "You seem to be quite busy," Aitin said around noon. "Blah, I have little problems with getting customers. Dunsurt is a large city with plenty of people that need things. The problem is that it costs so much for me to acquire the necessary ingredients for what I need. One would have thought that without Angvardi crossing the River or Ragosi storming our beaches, things would be readily available, but that isn't the case. Now, almost everything I need is being sent west to help the Unification Campaigns there. That has driven up the costs to where I can barely afford to sell any of my stock." "How do you survive, then?" he asked. She shrugged. "Mostly by my magic, such as it is. That is the only time I can ever make any actual coin, but that takes time and leaves me tired." Aitin knew firsthand how draining healing could be. Even though it was hardly their strong point, all prophets were required to learn how to heal simple injuries just as they had to learn basic elemental spells. The Master Prophets wanted all of their students to be as well rounded as possible, even if most of their time was spent on prophecy and history. "I need to go to Lavisha," he blurted out. Fenniel's mouth dropped a bit in shock. "To Lavisha?" she muttered. "Why in the gods holy names would you want to go there?" Aitin hesitated, but realized that he would have to tell her some time and now was as good as any. "I received a very special prophecy. It told me of a task that I must complete, a task sent by the gods themselves." He knew how crazy that sounded, but he had to convince her. "I know it sounds crazy, Fenniel, but it is true. I have never lied to you before, you know that. I am not lying to you now." "Wha-what sort of task?" she asked cautiously. He straightened his shoulders and sat up a bit taller. "I cannot tell you." At the look of hurt on her face, he hastily added, "I am sorry, but I cannot tell anyone, that was part of my instructions." "Can you tell me what reason you would have for going to Lavisha?" "Well, it isn't just Lavisha, but that is the easiest and safest way to get there this time of year. The Pausey Shoals are treacherous so the road to Goteip is safer than going by boat." "Goteip? That is a very long way from here," she said in astonishment. He nodded and sighed. "I have been all over, Fenniel. It has been a long few months, but I have finally been able to see a bit of the world, just like I always wanted to. I have been to Soothei, survived the Hensroth Forest, seen the fabled Temple of the Endless Seas, and spent a day in Klatasta. Before this summer, I had never dreamed of seeing any of those things." She appraised him with a critical eye. "You have been busy, haven't you, my dear prophet. What have you been doing at those places?" "I cannot tell you, but it is of the most critical importance that I continue north into Angvard." "I believe you," she whispered. He leaned across the table and said urgently, "You could come with me." She jerked back as if struck. "What?" "You could come with me. I may not be able to tell you everything, but nothing says I have to be alone all the time." She shook her head. "You are speaking crazy things." He waved his hands around her small home and shop, "Look at this place. "You said yourself that you are barely making a living here. Sell your shop and we can use the money to buy passage to Lavisha with some to spare. We can travel the roads together." She laughed dryly. "And spend the cold nights in each other's arms?" He couldn't stop the grin that formed on his lips. "Well, yes, that too. Think about it, Fenniel. You could leave behind this hopeless life and do something important. Historians will know our names and bards will sing of our deeds. Most importantly, the Tetrarchy itself will smile down upon us." "Oh yes, because the gods care about someone like me," came her retort. Aitin was hurt by that and didn't attempt to hide it. "Of course they do. Mewela loves all of her children both great and small. Come with me on this journey. I have been so lonely, having you along with me would mean more than you can ever imagine." Her face had lost all traces of humor. "You are serious about this, aren't you?" "As serious as anything I have ever been. I love you, Fenniel, I don't think I ever stopped loving you. Come with me and we can love each other for the rest of our lives." For a second, she remained motionless without expression. Then, just as Aitin's heart began to drop, a slow smile blossomed on her face. "I would like that, my sweet Aitin. I have never been to Angvard, maybe it is time I did. All I ever knew was fear or hatred of the Angvardi, gods forgive me. Perhaps by going there, I can learn otherwise. I can think of nobody I would wish to do that with more than you." Aitin stood up and leaned across the table to kiss her forehead in excitement and relief. "Thank you, Fenniel, my love. It might be a hard life, but it is one that is rewarding and will be far more meaningful than we would otherwise have." She grabbed his chin and pulled his mouth to hers for a quick but fiery kiss. "Let me go out and see if I can find someone to buy this place. If I can't find an individual, I can always sell it to House Olbak, they are always eager to buy more property and have plenty of coin." She stood up and started toward the door. "I will also inquire about ships heading north. With winter on its way, there are several captains who are bound to want to get home before the worst comes." "I will stay here," Aitin said. "That is probably wise. I doubt anyone here would recognize you, but the last thing we need is for someone to see a runaway prophet." Before she went through the door, she gave him another kiss. This one was longer and sent warmth throughout his body. "Stay here," she said breathlessly. "I will return before it is dark. If the gods be with us, I will come with coin and word of a ship that can take us." "I will not go anywhere," Aitin swore. With one last smile, she was out the door. While he was waiting, Aitin busied himself by going through the house gathering things that they would need for a journey. Food, some of her potions, clothes, and a few amenities that he thought she might need were all placed on her table for packing when she returned. If they were going to go on this journey, he wanted to prepare better than he had been able to when he started. Back in Terula City, he had quite literally just the clothes on his back and a small piece of bread that a fellow prophet had been eating when the prophecy struck them all. He was so excited that he didn't think his feet were touching the ground as he scampered around the house. For the last month since he left Maetop, he had been both dreading and dreaming of reuniting with Fenniel. He hadn't been sure if she felt the same things toward him that she had before and had always been afraid to ask. Meeting up with her last night had proven to be better than he could ever have hoped for. He hadn't expected to have someone coming with him on this journey, especially not someone whom he loved and loved him in return. Now, for the first since the excitement of adventure had died out shortly after leaving, he didn't feel that this journey would be a burden. He was so occupied in preparing for their journey, he didn't notice the front door crack open. He only heard the sound of something wooden rolling across stone before his senses were overwhelmed with a painful burst of light and sound. He immediately fell to his knees with eyes squeezed shut and hands over his ears, but that didn't stop the burning afterimages or the ringing in his head. Through the pain, he dimly recalled the name of the charm that had been used against him: a Sunburst charm. That knowledge gave him no comfort because his many nightmares over the last few months gave him an idea of what was coming next. He wasn't able to exactly see the three men in livery bearing the black gauntlet of the Order of Shalktra slam open the door and charge in with cudgels at the ready, but he did feel it when they reached him. Even though he was already on his knees, one Shalktra beat him across his shoulders with a leather bound cudgel until he was flat on his stomach. That man immediately got on top of Aitin and kept him pinned to the ground with an armor encased knee pressed between his shoulders. A thin black chain was thrown around his neck while his arms were wrenched back and manacles were clamped around his wrists. He tried to resist and get his legs under him, but that only resulted in a bash across the head that had him seeing stars. He only thought to cry out when strong arms pulled him to his feet and began pushing him toward the door, but by then, it was too late. Yelling only got him a gag stuffed in his mouth. He was pushed through Fenniel's door and into the street where he was forced to wait while a prison carriage made its way down the street to where they were. By now, there were no fewer than a dozen armed Shalktra all bearing the same black fist on their chests. There was not much hope for escape. Nobody in their right mind would interfere in his abduction when Shalktra were involved. A troop of Shalktra could rape a woman in a public square in broad daylight and not a single man would challenge them if they claimed she was some traitor, heretic, or Angvardi spy. In desperation, Aitin tried to recall his lessons on elemental magic, hoping to summon enough fire or electricity to strike down his abductors and give himself a fighting chance. As his mind recalled the proper spells, he twisted the fingers of his manacled hands upward in hopes of directing the lightning against the chains holding them together. As soon as he did, his head erupted in a spectacular amount of pain that blinded him. He would have fallen to the hard cobblestones that made up the street had it not been for the strong arms holding him up. He vomited, or rather tried to since his mouth had a gag in it. The sensation of drowning caused him to panic even more as he fought against the revulsion that came with swallowing his own vomit. Eventually, the need for air overrode his inhibitions and he swallowed. "Stupid prophet," a Shalktra said with a cold, merciless laugh. It was the first words any of them had said since bursting into Fenniel's house. "We have an Amulet of Silence around your neck. Try to use magic again and you will be similarly rewarded." What tiny amount of hope Aitin had vanished. An Amulet of Silence was used by the Prophet's Guard and a select few others such as the Shalktra to control those with weaker magical abilities such as prophets, conjurors, charmers, alchemists, and untrained mages or wizards. The amulet was actually a charm that sensed the buildup of magic within anyone who was wearing it and immediately sent a massive spike of pain straight into their head. One who was a trained mage or wizard could counter its effects with some effort, but a prophet such as himself was helpless against it. By now, the prison carriage had arrived and a small crowd had gathered. Aitin's head hung low in shame and terror at being treated as a criminal by the Shalktra, but that didn't stop him from seeing Fenniel's face in the crowd. His eyes widened as he caught her eyes. He shook his head, hoping that she would get the message not to try to help him. As if the gods had decided that all that had happened wasn't enough, he was petrified to see one of the Shalktra walk straight up to Fenniel and say something to her. Her eyes briefly flickered over to him before returning to Aitin. Without emotion, she nodded and the Shalktra walked back toward him with a smile on his face. Aitin's world shattered at that moment. He was not so foolish enough to miss betrayal so blatant. He had never thought that the woman he loved would betray him to his enemies, but it was plain that she had. If there had been any hope still left in him, it would have fled him at that moment, but there was none. He was utterly defeated and crushed. Two Shalktra began to drag him toward the carriage. When he passed by Fenniel, he looked up at her with pleading eyes. There was a hint of remorse in her voice when she replied, "I am sorry, Aitin. As much as I may hate what they do to you, it is necessary. You are a threat and you need to be sent back there where you can harm nobody." Tears finally came and began streaming down his cheeks unabated. How could she do this? Had all of those moments alone in her arms meant nothing? Had the kisses been nothing but show? Were all the words she spoke against the Prophet's Guard lies? Aitin and his escorts had reached the back of the carriage where he was hoisted up by two more men standing within its cage. The last thing he saw before a thick black bag was placed over his head was one of the Shalktra dropping a large leather coin purse into Fenniel's hands. So full was the purse that a few of the coins fell out into her hands. All were gold and quite large. It was a king's ransom that was more than most people ever even saw in their entire lives. He had no idea that he was worth so much. Despite himself and the situation he was in, he couldn't help but smile and feel a tiny bit of comfort that his love had at last found a way to sustain herself and live a comfortable life.

That is a good attitude. I put up one of my early attempts at a novel up here and it did not generate good feedback, so I abandoned it. I wasn't angry because it meant that I wasn't going to waste more time. With my current novel, I totally went a different direction, matured greatly, and followed feedback from people here (and elsewhere). I wanted to let you know that I haven't been ignoring you, I just haven't played ME yet and don't wish to spoil things. Not only that, but I wouldn't be able to follow anything as I don't know what is going on.

Are you going to start reading the story itself?

Alvaren was in the first draft in this exact place. I only expanded this section slightly and had him give an answer rather than simply ask for more time. Do you mean Zaren (the cousin)? Alvaren was the King of the Sei (Syler's people). Zaren was introduced to give some flavor to Amberis as well as to allow me (the writer) to show some of Amberis' motives for plotting against Gevas (the king) rather than telling. In the first draft, I had like four or five paragraphs right from the start explaining Amberis' motives and whatnot, but that was lazy writing because it told rather than showed. I have been working to cut down on those parts so I introduce Zaren as a minor character in the story. Plus, it also lets me develop a new concept to the Terulan storyline: the noble Houses. Angvard has local lords in charge of various cities and territories, but Terula has noble Houses which serve essentially like mafia kingdoms but with official power. As Terula is essentially a confederation (versus Angvardi's more centralized imperial power), the Houses play a major part (as will become very apparent in the end of the second book and most of the third). http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Milord I have seen it as "my lord," "m'lord," and "milord." I didn't realize that, in history, "milord" had a specific reference as I thought it was another alternate spelling. Upon investigation, I believe the correct usage is indeed "m'lord" and therefore, I shall be changing it. You are right about the words being kinda funky. I shall fix that immediately. Anyway, moving onto the next chapter. This, like the above chapter, was originally one quarter of one chapter. I very much didn't like that and decided to give it about 2/3 a chapter with the rest of the chapter being devoted to a tangent involving the Prophets and Seers. This also includes a little element that helps answer a question about Aitin (the runaway prophet) and avoids a plothole/deus ex machima issue for both him and a future event. I like what I do in this chapter with making Lorenez (the guy who teaches Raella in a few more chapters), into a more fully fleshed out character. He has a role to play in the future and this helps more logically lay out why/how he is part of it. Plus, I kinda go a little CSI with him using some spells and even showing a little more of how the colors and magic and all work. _____________ Chapter 32 Magic, when used for holy purposes, is among the most precious gifts the gods have bestowed upon mortals. Magic, when used for the profane black arts, is among the most dire threats to befall mankind. — The Wisdom of Ages, a Wayic Holy Text Abandoned house Outside Terula City, Kingdom of Terula October 11 Magic was more than simply a flashy trick. It was greater than the power to kill someone standing next to you. It was more than simply seeing the future or healing or defending something from attack. It was definitely not simply something for show to impress peasants or intimidate peers. Many of the commoners and ungifted thought that magic was always something mysterious and unattainable, but they were wrong. Magic was the power of life itself. Magic sustained life, it made it possible, and without it, there would be no life. Tantis the Founder had, in his infinite knowledge, created magic and put it into this world so that it could keep his wife's creation alive. Originally, magic was meant to enrich life and bring beauty to the Two Realms. Chaos took that beautiful gift and perverted it to kill and maim and destroy. Because of his envy and jealousy, the pureness and innocence of magic was gone forever. In its place, fear and danger emerged. Magic could be used to do many horrible, nearly unthinkable things, but the worst of those offenses was the power to summon back the dead. Necromancy was profane, vile, and the most repulsive use of magic because it stole souls from eternal bliss and bound them to an unnatural existence in the world of the living. Man was never meant to live forever. They were to live their lives, die, and return to the gods. Their souls, were they pure, would go to dwell with the gods forever with the goddess Mewela who loved them dearly. Those souls that weren't pure would suffer eternal damnation in the vengeful clutches of Chaos in the Eternal Fire. Wizard Lorenez had never liked any of those who dealt in necromancy. Necromancy may have been banned in the kingdom as an blasphemy against the Tetrarchy, but that didn't mean it didn't exist. Mankind was always trying to stray and commit evil acts and necromancy offered some the perverse power that their warped minds desired. As a member of the Order of Wizards' Purification Sect, it was his responsibility to root out necromancy and destroy it and any associated with it wherever it could be found. He understood the danger that necromancers posed to the world and wanted to do his part to ensure that the darkest, most profane of necromancy's powers were never unleashed. Even now, he was leading six of the city guard to a house three miles outside of the city that had been suspected of being used by necromancers. It wasn't a very reliable tip, but any report needed to be verified, especially this close to the capital. Even if the prospects were slim that the house was a hub of necromancy, Lorenez almost hoped that there were necromancers present because it would give him a chance to relieve some tension. Things back at the College were growing almost unbearable as the rivalry between the wizards and prophets heated up. The feud between Grandmaster Wizard Setpinius and Master Prophet Xalent was continuing to the point that brawls had broken out during intercollegiate meetings. Fortunately, magic had yet to be used and nobody was killed in any of them, but the king had not been pleased and had ordered the two heads of their respective Orders to resolve their issues and stop the infighting. That hadn't gone over very well, so Lorenez had volunteered to search out necromancers even when such a flimsy rumor was all they had to go on. It was a good excuse to get out of the city for an afternoon. They approached the house without a problem. Lorenez cast a few exploratory spells to see if there was life inside or if there was any magic being used in the area recently. The life spells didn't show anything, but that rarely meant much when dealing with necromancers. He had once come upon a camp that had not shown any signs of life, but when they had entered to search it, had been crawling with necromancer adepts who had been able to conceal their spirit's life. There were signs of magic being used, however, and that cause his pulse to quicken slightly. He could sense residual spells echoing within the house. It was nothing above mage level, so Lorenez felt confident that these were just amateurs and were no match against a full wizard. Even if he knew he could handle a mere mage, it wouldn't do to go in recklessly and fall into a trap. He and the men with him spent an hour watching the house for any signs of movement. After nothing happened, they decided to approach it slowly. Two men went around back to watch for anyone trying to escape while the other four and Lorenez went in from the front. With just a simple gesture of the wizard's hand, the door blew into shards and the guards stormed in. Lorenez followed with his hands at the ready to ward off any attack. What they found was a mostly empty house. There was an old bed with worn sheets in one corner and a few pieces of random debris on the floor, but the house clearly hadn't been used in months. With a furrowed brow, Lorenez went searching for the source of the magical echoes he had felt outside while the guards went back outside to keep from tainting the scene any farther. His head whipped around at the sound of glass crashing to the floor. His hands were glowing with counterspells when he saw what had happened and extinguished them. "You fool," he hissed. "Don't touch anything." The guard who had knocked down what appeared to be a simple glass cup looked confused. Lorenez shook his head angrily and answered the unspoken question. "Necromancy doesn't just involve raising recently deceased bodies. Any necromancer adept can bind the spirits of dead animals or people to objects that serve as wards or charms for their black magic. What may seem to be a simple glass could very well be a powerful charm that could detonate a sphere of lightning that would consume this entire house. Be careful not to disturb anything here." Satisfied at the alarm on the faces of the four who had entered the house with him, the wizard started investigating things more closely. There were no signs of blood that would indicate a recent sacrifice, nor were there any of the standard totems or runes anywhere to be seen. There weren't even any sharp knives visible. With a frown of displeasure, he whispered the words to cast a new spell to determine what exactly he had felt from outside. The world around him glowed in his eyes as he saw the magic potential of everything. If he wasn't careful, his mind would be overwhelmed and all he would see is a pure white light as though he were looking into the sun. As it was, he had to focus on each part of the spectrum of magical potential that the spell revealed to him. The table, walls, floor, and most of the objects here were a dull, slowly changing white light that held little interest to him. Small beetles and what could be a rat in the floorboards showed a deep, rich, slowly pulsing blue or green. The guards were only slightly more interesting as they glowed in a rapid bright light striating between yellow and orange. It took a minute or two to fully focus on everything enough to get to the higher levels of magical potential and that was when he saw it. There, surrounded by the plain white light of the floor, was a fiercely flaring red light that sent waves out all around it. He ended his spell and the world returned to normal. "Leave this place," he commanded. "It is not safe." The four guards hastily withdrew the way they came and stayed outside. Lorenez approached the object he had seen with caution. With his natural eyes, he was able to see that the object seemed to be nothing more threatening than a small wooden cube around three inches on each side. He was experienced enough to realize that appearances were rarely accurate, especially when it came to magic and women. Without touching it, he inspected each of the five visible sides for any markings or differences without success. On the surface, there was nothing special about this piece of wood, just that it was a smoothed piece of what looked like birch. He reached into his satchel and pulled out a tin of green powder. Slowly and carefully, he poured a hexagon around the box before returning it to its place. The next thing he brought forth was a small glass vial of purple liquid. A single drop was poured at each corner of the hexagon before being placed back where he had gotten it. He placed his hands over the cube and spoke the words that would complete the spell. The design drawn around the object caught fire and began smoking. Green flames then erupted and cast the house in an eerie tint. A slight wind began swirling around wizard and spell drawing the smoke directly into the cube where it vanished into nothingness. After the green powder had burned away and the smoke had been taken in by the cube, Lorenez stopped his chanting and stared at the object in front of him. The cube remained untouched, with only the slightest of white wisps emanating from it. He frowned and wondered what sort of magic this was and why it would have been found here. If it had been rejected by the cube, it would have told him that whatever magic was within it was shielded against such investigations. It hadn't blocked the smoke nor the rest of his spell, so it did not appear to be warded. Had the smoke turned a different color as it came into contact with the cube, it would have indicated what sort of magic he was dealing with. Instead, it had come back white, a non-color that indicated nothing of value. At least it did not indicate hostile intent or danger. His own senses had not picked up any threats or danger, either, but this was clearly an object of magic. Deciding that the object warranted further investigation, he performed a quick containment spell to encase the object and keep it pristine. He wanted to be able to study this at his leisure back in his office with far more tools and potions to assist him. When he was satisfied that the spell was holding, he slipped the wooden block into his satchel and exited the house. "Did you find anything, Wizard Lorenez?" the leader of the guard asked. "No, I cannot sense any necromancy here. There was an object of magic within, but it could be anything or come from anywhere. Regardless, it seems that it is not a threat so I have brought it with me for further evaluation. It appears our journey was a general waste of time." "At least it means we didn't have to stand around in the market all day staring at all the lovely ladies we can't touch," one of them said. The others chuckled. "Then I am glad that I helped you escape that torment," said Lorenez dryly. He was disappointed that there had been no necromancers to deal with, but he was also intrigued by the stone block. Right now, he wanted to get back to the College to where he could study it further and perhaps salvage something of value out of this day. Regardless to his desires, the wizard was doomed to face a litany of questions from the suddenly quite chatty guards. Now that the prospect of facing the horrors of necromancers had passed, they were eager to talk to a wizard. So few commoners ever had direct access to the gifted, and those that did were needing services rather than conversation. "So, master wizard, is it true that the prophets have seen the Coming Darkness?" a guard ask. Lorenez let out a sigh of impatience. "Do you not see the white of my robes? I am not a master, but simply venerated. If you must, address me as Venerated Wizard Lorenez." The guards didn't know what to make of that, but the one who first posed the question repeated it. "The prophets always claim to see the Coming Darkness around every corner. It is how they remain relevant. With such weak and generally impractical skills, they wrap themselves in mystery and supposed foresight to prevent themselves from being left out in the streets." There was a murmur among several of the guards, but Lorenez didn't care. If he didn't care enough to bother learning their names or even recognizing their differences, he sure wasn't going to care about their gossip. He was able to continue down the road for several hundred yards before another guard interrupted his peace. "The prophets see disasters and warn us about them. Many have been saved by their words. Surely that makes them relevant and worthy of support. Right?" It was an amateur's argument, one he had heard countless times. Though he didn't generally care about what the common rabble thought, he had an aversion to ignorance and did not wish to be surrounded by it on their journey back to the College. "The prophets receive flash visions of many things, some of which are possible futures. With these visions come a few nuggets of what might come to pass, but the majority of them are filled with meaningless drivel. On occasion, the collective force of prophets manages to piece together something worth considering, but mostly, they only clutter matters with vague guesses." "They predicted last year's drought in Klahae," argued one guard. "Don't be a fool," Lorenez replied sourly. "The prophets had almost nothing to do with that." The guard frowned and blinked behind his helmet's visor. "But they warned that stores needed to be laid the year before so that the people would have enough for the next." The wizard let out an audible sigh. "No, the seers warned of that bit. The prophets only snuck in like they always do and claimed the credit as part of some obscure prophecy in a book not read in three hundred years. Since nobody can understand a quarter of what their prophecies say, nobody can dispute them." This left all of the guards in a state of slight confusion. Sensing that another question was forthcoming, Lorenez decided to simply head it off before they wasted more of this time. "The seers see things in the short term, and unlike the prophets, their visions always come true in some form or fashion. They foresaw famine and dry earth in Klahae and warned about the drought. The prophets pounced on it and, with the support of the Tetrand, proclaimed it prophecy." "Wait, so the prophets didn't see what was coming?" "No, not at all," the wizard replied. "They took credit for what the seers saw. The priests were quick to take care of the rest as they preached the prophecy as some sort of divine revelation given to the prophets. The seers, as usual, were almost entirely uncredited." One guard, the man who Lorenez took as their leader, crossed his arms and huffed. "You speak as though the priests are lying and misleading the faithful." Of course he was, but he couldn't simply say that aloud. It was hardly a secret that the College of Wizards had not gotten along with the Tetrand or the priests in many centuries. The Order of Prophets had long used the Way for protection and to elevate themselves as messengers of the Tetrarchy. The wizards were growing tired of it, and, if recent events were any indication, so was the Cloister of Seers. The seers had frequently been on the fence regarding the Tetrand. Some years they would actively court the priests and others they would alienate them. To Lorenez, it seemed that they were simply fickle and were jealous of whenever the prophets and the Tetrand were particularly close. At those times, they would usually try to find a way to wedge themselves into the good graces of the Tetrand to offset the favor shown to the prophets. Other times, they wanted nothing to do with the Wayic leaders and were content to be left in the shadows. They had deviated from this pattern only recently, namely after the great prophecy that had shaken the Royal Court a few months ago. This time, instead of rushing to garner favor from the Tetrand in a time when the prophets were more popular than ever, they had gone the opposite direction entirely. Though it wasn't widely known, Lorenez had overheard rumors of secret meetings between the Head Sister of the Seers and the Grandmaster Wizard himself. What such meetings consisted of, he could only guess. "I would never say such a thing, guardsman," Lorenez replied. "The priests are faultless in their desire to serve the Tetrarchy. However, I do not believe that all of the prophets are the same. They are crafty men and greedy for power. It is entirely possible that they are capable of misguiding otherwise well meaning priests for their own ends." "And what ends would those be?" asked a guard, one whom Lorenez didn't think had spoken yet. In response, the wizard shrugged. "I do not know. I am but a simple wizard, one charged with combating the vile taint of necromancy. Surely we can all agree that such things transcend any politics or personal differences." That at least, seemed to satisfy them and allowed him a few more minutes of silence. "What do wizards normally do when they aren't out finding necromancers or healing people?" a guard asked. Lorenez rolled his eyes and replied sardonically, "We spend all of our time reading dusty books, practicing our magic, meditating alone, and answering inane questions." Some of the guards caught on to his tone, but the one who asked the question was apparently not burdened by the gods with an overabundance of intelligence. "That sounds pretty boring. I am glad I am not a wizard." "Yes, it is good that you aren't," he replied genuinely. Young wizards with intelligence and perception such as this one rarely survived their own ignorance. Magic was a dangerous thing and could consume the caster if they weren't careful. More to prevent them from asking more questions than out of a desire to talk, he added, "Wizards are more or less like other people, we just do a lot more studying. Just because we can cast magic doesn't mean we are not human. We think, feel, and behave just like the non-gifted." Another guard, the one who seemed to be their leader, asked, "Then tell me, sir wizard, is it true that all wizards take vows ne'er to touch a woman?" The wizard genuinely wondered where people thought up these sorts of things. "No, it is not," he replied through clenched teeth. "Then why is it that nobody ever sees wizards with women?" "Because we so often have other things occupying our time that prevent us from wasting it in taverns or frivolous parties," he snapped. "Rest assured, there are many wizards who have female companions, some who even marry. There is nothing in our Dictates that prevent unions of that type." "Then do you have a lady friend?" Out of nowhere, Lorenez saw flashes of silky black hair and lush, red painted lips before him. He saw the curious red eight pointed star with the white swirls that she always wore around her neck. He could feel the warmth of soft hands on his chest and the curves of the feminine form beneath his own. He could see the rich, dark skin of her neck inviting him to kiss it. His nose was filled with the subtle scent of the spices that always surrounded her, the ones that came from her homeland and were so hard to find here. Eyes the color of honey bored into him with an intensity that took his breath away. Lastly, before they faded away, he saw a distinct image of a young woman, framed in shadow, alone with tears streaming down her cheeks. The woman was fleeing from dark shadows, but he could not make out what they were or what her face looked like. Try as he might, it was all covered in darkness. At last, everything swirled together and vanished into nothingness. So abrupt were the visions that Lorenez's feet missed a step and he nearly tumbled into the dirt of the road. The power of them was tangible and left his palms sweaty and his breath ragged. He felt as though he had been up all night practicing multi-phased wards with Master Wizard Muldan. Sweat trickled down his back and his fingertips were tingling. He didn't realize he had said anything until one of the guards asked, "Who is Vadansha?" "Nobody," he said quickly. "Just someone I used to know." He was so distracted in trying to figure out what happened that he nearly missed the response. "Is that the name of your lady?" With a snarl, he flicked his hands and the guard who spoke out flew several feet and landed on his rump. "It is none of your business," he snapped. The other five men stared at him in shock and began to back away from him. None made the mistake of reaching for weapons—they knew that they stood no chance against a wizard if it came down to combat. Now in no mood to deal with their pestering, he growled irritably, "Leave me in peace. Return to your barracks for the day." They paused only long enough to help the one guard up to his feet before fleeing down the road. Somewhere, on the edge of his mind, Lorenez knew that this wasn't the sort of thing that would play well when he returned to the College, but right now, he didn't care. There was magic involved in what happened, that much Lorenez knew. He wasn't entirely sure what had happened, but there was something important. It was a trigger of some sorts, but he had no clue as to what it was about. His mind sought the source of the trigger, but couldn't come up with a definitive point of origin. It could have been some outside source, a hidden ward he had inadvertently crossed. He doubted that because there was no sign of such a thing. It also might have been a key phrase spoken by the guards, something that triggered those memories within him. He had seen such magic before, but not in a very long time. With a sharp intake of breath, his eyes widened. She was capable of such magic. Why would she cast such a spell upon him, especially after what happened? He racked his mind trying to determine when she would have done such a thing and could find nothing. The sort of spells that would set such triggers within someone's subconscious were tricky and required time. Usually the subject was unable to resist and then had their memories blotted out after the process. It was common enough among the ungifted, but to do such a thing to a wizard… He shook his head to clear it and drive away the tingle that ran down his back. If she was capable of such things when he knew her, then she was truly among the most gifted of all of her kind. Today had provided three new mysteries. First was this mysterious cube that he had found in the abandoned house. The second was how such powerful memories had been planted into his mind without his remembering the spell that was used. The third, and most disturbing, was why she had placed those memories into him and why she would want him to remember these things now of all times. Master Prophet Xalent frowned as he watched the young wizard standing there alone on the road. With the help of a charm that altered and concealed his presence, he had been carefully following the group ever since they left the abandoned house. He could hear snatches of conversation now and then, but not all of it. He remained silent as the unwitting wizard received the message and remained hidden. It was happening, that much he knew. The gods were gracious, offering good with the bad. There was a great temptation to reveal himself and speak to the wizard, but these sorts of things generally reacted poorly to intervention. While he had knowledge of what was happening and what this would mean, he was powerless to stop it. Sometimes, being aware of the future was a great and tremendous burden that he did not enjoy one bit. His insight into prophecy and the future gave him the comfort of hope that things would turn out well. However, knowing the future also meant that he knew some of the terrible things that had to happen before good could triumph. He waited until the hapless wizard was a tiny speck on the horizon before making his own way back to the city. Even with his charm, he had to be careful. If it was known that the Master Prophet himself was outside the Tower of Estar without an escort, things would go very poorly for him and the entire Order. The charm he wore concealed his features as well as most traces of the magic he could wield, but that didn't make it fool proof. A moderately well trained wizard or sorceress with sufficient focus could penetrate the magical shroud around him and learn his true identity. Even an observant ungifted could sense something was wrong if there was too much interaction. Xalent was careful to keep his cloak wrapped tightly around him and his hood up over his head when he approached the city gates. It was fortunate that the autumn was colder than normal because it many others were bundled up in the same manner. The guards didn't give him a second look as he merged into the steady stream of people coming in and going out of the bustling city. He had heard it said that three quarters of a million people lived within or just outside the city's walls. He wasn't sure if that were true or not, but there were certainly more people than he could count milling through the streets going about their business. Being so close to the walls meant that he had to wade through a seemingly endless number of merchants and shopkeepers all trying to convince the pedestrians why their wares were superior or absolutely necessary to purchase. Xalent found them all fascinating, but he was not interested in lingering because he didn't want to risk his charm failing at the wrong time. He kept his head down and was able to get through the outer ring of the city and in toward the Tower of Estar at its center. In this quarter, the streets were quieter with fewer people. Instead of markets or vending stands, houses lined the street. The closer to the center he got, the larger those houses were and the more careful he had to be. Wizards and mages often frequented these houses for various purposes ranging from healing those who could afford it to earning a little extra money by tutoring rich children. There was one moment when he saw a man in red robes of a Second Class mage walking straight toward him that he tensed up and prepared to make a run for it. Such mages were at the level of being a threat to him since they were strong enough to overcome his ward. Just as he was about to start off down a back alley, someone called out to the mage and drew him off to the courtyard of a well to do house. Xalent wasted no time in scrambling behind the mage's back and to relative safety. There were no other encounters with gifted individuals for the rest of his trip to the house that was his destination. The house was an expensive and highly desired one less than a hundred yards from the security ring around the Wall of Silence that surrounded the Tower. Unbeknownst to the Prophet's Guard and just about anyone else in Teladia, the house was owned by the Akorias family who had long been secret supporters of the prophets. Centuries ago in 3E 792, Val Akorias had been angered at how prophets were treated and decided to take action. After conspiring with the great Master Prophet Jokatas, they decided to do something about the situation. Over the course of two years, they personally constructed a tunnel that went from the man's basement to one of the most unused storerooms below the Tower. Val Akorias had no idea the true motivations behind Jokatas' decision to risk the destruction of all of the Order of Prophets. The well meaning man, while brave, had no true idea of how dangerous his proposal had been. If the Prophet's Guard had discovered the tunnel, they would have immediately purged the Tower of all life just as a precaution. So great was the threat that only the directing Master Prophet and Mistress Seer knew about it. Xalent had no idea how the Prophet Aitin, himself only a mere Confirmed Prophet, had found it, but that was the only way that he could think of for the young man to have escaped the Tower unseen. Knowing how necessary it was for the prophets using the tunnel to have a way to come in and out without alerting anyone, Segan Akorias created a small trap door in 939 behind his house to allow people using the tunnel to come and go without him even being aware of it. Because of that, Tufas Akorias didn't even know if Aitin had come through the tunnel. It wasn't a difficult thing to get back into the Tower, even if it wasn't exactly pleasant. The tunnel was dark, stuffy, and rather filthy. Even with the light coming from a small sphere of fire hovering above his palm, it was hard to see. The tunnel was heavily shielded with wards stolen from somewhere throughout the centuries so that people travelling within it could not be sensed by the gifted among the Guard. That shielding also had the unfortunate effect of dampening all light regardless of its source and adding to the sense of gloom that pervaded the entire structure. When he was at last safely within the Tower, he was able to change into his proper black robes and, with some careful navigation, reintegrate himself into the common halls and act like normal. His first stop was to visit Mistress Seer Hedgeroth in her office. "What is it?" a tired and impatient voice responded to his polite knocking. When she looked up from her work, her face relaxed and her voice softened considerably, "Ahh, Shruden, what is it that brings you to see me this evening?" Xalent smiled with genuine but fleeting warmth. "It has begun, Aelsa, just as your daughters foresaw." The seer scrambled to her feet and hissed admonishingly, "Not here, old man, or you will doom us all!" Though she was four years his senior, she had been blessed by the gods with looks of a woman in her late fifties rather than the seventy-one years she had actually lived. Because he looked his proper age, she often called him an old man. It had initially started as a joke, but it had no become habit. She only relaxed when the door to her office was closed and warded with an anti-eavesdropping spell. "Are you sure it has happened?" Xalent nodded. "I witnessed it with my own eyes. The bait has been set and the mouse has taken it." Hedgeroth massaged her temples and sat back down in her chair. "This is too soon, things are not yet ready." "I know that, but the gods do not work on our timetables." With anxiety in her eyes, she asked, "Which one was it?" She drew herself up and held her chin high hoping to take the news face on. "Paluthan's Branch," was all that Xalent needed to say in order to deflate her entirely. She sagged in her chair and let out a single moan. "Who is the wizard?" she asked after a few seconds. "Anyone we know?" "He is one called Lorenez, out of the necromancy branch. He was hunting necromancers and came across it." She released a deep breath before muttering, "No wonder we kept sensing death perverted in our visions. I was wondering how that came into play." "There were no necromancers and I could not sense any necromancy in the area," Xalent replied with one brow arched in curiosity. The seer waved his comments away, "You should know better. Our visions are dominated by perception, not necessarily fact. What we see is always true if interpreted correctly, but it is often confusing and muddled. Was everything else as we saw?" "Yes, not that there was much to go on." It was rare that the visions of a seer and the prophecy of a prophet coincided. For both to have been warned of this day had been too stark a sign for either to ignore. What happened on this day had confirmed an important branch of prophecy and invalidated three others. Paluthan had been a prophet hundreds of years ago who had written of the events that were now coming about. While there were no specific ties to the Master of Magic in his prophecies, it was long suspected—and now confirmed—that they were set in the same time. She slapped her hands on her desk and said wearily, "I am too old for this, Shruden. We both are. I had hoped to be back in Mewela's warm embrace before the Coming Darkness struck, but the gods have seen it fit to place this burden upon my shoulders." Xalent tried to smile, but his lips just wouldn't obey and the result was more of a grimace. "I am glad it was you, Aelsa. At least it is someone I know and trust rather than a new Mistress Seer. Transitions are always a hard time, putting this on a newly ascended Mistress would be cruel and dangerous." Hedgeroth's eyes lit up in appreciation of what Xalent was trying to do, but, like him, she could not force a smile. "It does not matter now. What is done is done and things have been set into motion that cannot be undone." "I know," said Xalent with regret and fear. "There is no going back now, we can only hope that the gods have worked things out for the ultimate good."

I used the GIMP, a free software. I also used some free stock brushes for the mountains and forest as well as free stock for the terrain.

Okay, as promised, we are taking a break from the Syler storyline to truly start the Amberis one. I have put a lot of effort into expanding his character and persona as well as being able to give out his reasons for doing what he does without spelling it all out in a monologue. I think expanding his original quarter chapter into a full one really helps do that. It also introduces the minor character Zaren Rael who will have a part to play later on. ______________ Chapter 31 Treachery can abound in even the most trusted individuals. Never stray your vision far from those who are close because only they are near enough to thrust a knife into your back. — Gzai Oren's Art of Politics The Royal Dungeons Terula City, Kingdom of Terula October 10 Lord Amberis Rael rarely visited the dungeons. As a first cousin to King Gevas Rael and the head of the rich and powerful House Rael, he didn't have much cause to do so. Most of his life was spent doing more important things such as planning invasions, dealing with revenue, monitoring rival lords and nobles, and ensuring that House Rael continued to remain in power. Despite all of the endeavors that a man such as he should be undertaking, he was, at this very moment, journeying into the dark, damp dungeons beneath the Royal Palace in Terula City. He had cause to do so now because there was a special person currently residing in one of the cells that he wanted to meet. It had taken some doing, but he had managed to acquire a valuable prisoner from their Angvardi allies. A great deal of bribes and blood had been spent to get this man here and Amberis intended on getting his money's worth out of him. When he arrived at the outer gate, the guards there initially balked at seeing a man wearing such fine silk clothes and jewelry in such a place. Most who came here did not do so willingly and typically wore filthy tatters of clothes ripped in their struggle against the guards who were dragging them along. At first, the sergeant guarding the post didn't recognize him, so Amberis gave the man a few moments. The initial look of disbelief on the sergeant's face morphed first into confusion, then into the natural suspicion that all good guards had. When his mind had time to process who he was seeing, his eyes widened and his jaw lowered slightly. Now that he was recognized, Amberis merely arched his brow and the sergeant jumped into action. The gate was opened and he was allowed through without question. After waving aside the sergeant's bumbling offer to give him an escort, Amberis purposefully strode down the dark, narrow spiral staircase that led him dozens of feet below ground. At the bottom, he encountered the next checkpoint. Unlike the previous batch, these men were anticipating him. After all, Amberis had paid good money to ensure that most of the men down here were loyal to him. He expected them to be waiting and ready for this special moment. "This way, milord," a man in slightly rusted mail and a dirty yellow tunic said. He gestured to the left and waited for Amberis to go ahead of him. The two of them journeyed through hundreds of yards of corridors consisting of various cell blocks, interrogation rooms, and larger holding cells. They both ignored the moans and groans of the various inhabitants—mostly hardened criminals—along the way. Every few yards, an enclosed lamp offered enough light to properly see most of the environment, even though Amberis had no desire to examine what he could see closely. They passed several patrolling guards along the way, but none of them felt any reason to question or even look too closely at the well dressed man walking unchained through the dank halls. After going through the regular part of the extensive prison, Amberis and the guard arrived at another checkpoint tucked away behind a wood door set in a little niche well off the beaten path. Once through the door, they were greeted by a thick, sturdy steel gate that led into a small barracks. The room directly visible behind the gate sported numerous tables and chairs, as well as a small supply of ale. Off to either side, doors led to other parts of the barracks that offered beds, latrines, a washroom, and a small place to stretch and practice combat. It was dark and dimly lit, but warm even while an early winter was starting up on the surface. These guards behind the locked gate took a long, hard look at Amberis and his escort before even summoning the officer in command. A man wearing a lieutenant's badge across his right breast, a massive specimen of muscle and intimidation, sauntered across the guard room in well polished hauberk with a blood red sash draped diagonally across one shoulder and down the opposite waist. He rested his hands atop the pommel of his sword and appraised the new arrivals coldly. His pale skin contrasted with the black hair of his closely cropped beard and his green eyes were unnervingly brilliant in the dim light. After pursing his lips for a second, he pointed a black gloved finger at Amberis' escort and said, "You may depart." Without hesitation, the man retreated back into the gloom of the dungeons. He then dismissed his own guards who, after but a moment's confusion at being asked to abandon their posts, complied and filed out into their barracks. When the guard was out of earshot, the lieutenant's lips quirked up slightly. "Lord Rael, it has been too long since you have visited my little kingdom." "I know, but I have too many other things to occupy me to come down often, Zaren." The man's hand, encased in a black leather glove, rose to softly chide Amberis. "It is Lieutenant Rael now, cousin." "Of course," Amberis replied with a shallow bow of acknowledgment. "I had not forgotten. I was hoping that you would suspense with courtesies considering our past, but it appears that you are still bitter about your fate." Zaren slammed his hands against the bars of the gate separating the two of them and said loudly, "Of course I am! You sent me here to rot in this hell while you get to live in splendor up in the sunlight." Amberis' right hand clenched into a fist. He matched his cousin's tone and volume. "I sent you here because you are a Rael and the House needs you here." "What could you possibly need me here for that any other common soldier couldn't handle?" Zaren snarled. "Don't be foolish," replied Amberis with a dismissive wave. "You think of this as an exile, but I see of it as strategic positioning. Think, cousin, what do you have here?" Underneath his beard, Zaren's cheeks were flaming in fury. "I have nothing! I waste away my life in this dark pit, growing more and more out of touch with the rest of life. I spend day after day with this same lot of wretches without even crossing the threshold of this gate. An entire week could go by without a glimpse of a single ray of sunlight, and don't make me start in on the lack of women. The only ones we get to see are the filthy creatures that aren't good enough to be held in the regular dungeons, but are condemned to the special hell we guard. Six years I have rotted down here, ignored and forgotten." Amberis' face remained still as stone. "Forgive me if I appear unmoved. You have your life, and that is more than you could have had. We all have our roles to play and the hardships we must bear." "And apparently not all of those hardships are shared equally," fumed the lieutenant. This, at least, brought a smile to Amberis' face. "That, unfortunate as it may be, is true. Rest assured, Lieutenant Zaren, your suffering shall not go unrewarded. There is a time that you will soon rise up out of this pit and step into the day once more. When that day comes, you will have something far better than a simple tin badge on over your breast. You will have lands and servants and even people to rule." Zaren's eyes narrowed at this as if he were waiting for a giant "but" to once again snatch his future away from him. "You know that isn't possible, not after what you did." "I did nothing, Zaren, you were the one who decided to go out that fateful night despite Feralda's warning. She may be dimwitted and gluttonous, but those things have in no way impeded on her capacity to sense when trouble is brewing." "Do not speak of Mother that way or you will never get through this gate," Zaren snapped. Ignoring the interruption, Amberis continued, "But it was you who decided to go to the tavern and you alone are responsible for what happened. It was all I could do to make sure you weren't thrown in one of the very cells that I just passed while you waited for your execution. Cousin Gevas was just about to sign your death warrant when I intervened on your behalf. The best I was able to do for you was to get you stationed as a guard here where you are out of sight of the public and the Vaserdeys." The lord spread his hands out and gestured at the lieutenant. "Now look at you. You have risen from a mere guard to the lieutenant in charge of the Bastelin. Do you think that was merely by coincidence, Zaren? Do you truly think that a man with your past would be able to rise so quickly? Even having the name of 'Rael' would do that for you without someone around to pull strings and whisper into the proper ears." "You did this?" Zaren asked. "I don't believe you. You have only visited me once since I was thrown down here. Now, you are coming here acting as though I owe what little I have left to your benevolence?" He spat on the ground at Amberis' feet. "I don't think so." "Oh cousin, has your time in the dark completely robbed you of your senses? We used to be friends, and there was a time when you used to look up to me." "I was young then, and naïve," spat Zaren. "You were thirteen years older than I was and that meant you were strong and loved by all. You got all of the best posts and luxuries. All of the nobles paid homage to you and treated you as a superior even as a youth. It didn't hurt that your father was the King Vrastas' younger brother and you were heir to House Rael." He beat his armored chest with a fist and continued his rant. "What did I have? Nothing! I was just the lesser son of a lesser sister of a lesser branch of the family. I had to work hard to get what I had and then it was taken away from me by that bastard Oelas Vaserdey while you stood there and watched." "I told you," Amberis replied heatedly, "I was the one who saved your life. Gevas was not eager to renew the feud between our Houses and was willing to sacrifice you to prevent it. I persuaded him to spare you and send you here rather than the hangman's gallows." "Maybe it would have been better if you had," Zaren replied sullenly. Amberis only glared at him through the slowly rusting bars of the door that separated them. "We all have our roles and mine is undeniably greater and more visible than yours. I don't make any apologies for that and never will. Get a hold of yourself, cousin. Do you see me beating my chest while complaining about how Gevas is king and I am not? No! I accept my fate and work with what I have. You should try it yourself." "That is easy for you to say, you have palaces and attend glorious parties with women hanging on both arms." Amberis rolled his eyes. "Oh if only I could escape such pathetic functions that serve only to disrupt my real work." He glared into his cousin's eyes and said in a cold, demanding tone, "There is a war on, Zaren, and Terula needs both of us. Are you willing to serve your House and kingdom, or will you continue to waste away in the dark nursing your old grudges and playing the victim?" Zaren's right cheek twitched slightly, but he held Amberis' gaze steadily. For a few seconds, Amberis thought he was considering simply storming off and leaving him standing at the gate. Instead of doing that, the guard's face drooped and he sighed in defeat, "Okay, Amberis, what is it you want from me?" A slight smile graced Amberis' lips. "You received a prisoner three days ago." "We get many prisoners down here," replied Zaren edgily. "This one had no name and came escorted by four men wearing checkered blue and black armbands." Zaren's cheek twitched again. "Okay, I know which one." "I need to speak with him." "What did he do?" The guards down in this section of the dungeons did not ask questions about why people were sent here, they merely did as they were told and held their charges until their fate could be decided by men who saw far more sunlight than them. Amberis shook his head, "No, not until I see him. You may listen in on our conversation if you wish. In fact, I would prefer if you did. I believe you will be quite enlightened if you do." "You, an interrogator?" Zaren said with a harsh laugh. "I had never thought to see you actually get your hands dirty." Amberis' eyes glazed over and he absentmindedly flexed his right hand open and closed a few times. "Do not fool yourself, there are worse things than blood on my soul." "What is that supposed to mean?" "It means nothing to now," murmured Amberis. He shook himself briefly and focused back on his cousin. "I need to see this man and, if things work as I hope they will, I will need your help." Zaren crossed his arms across his chest. "Why should I help you do anything?" "Because, no matter how bitter you have become, you are still a Rael. That means you have the wits enough to realize that helping me is your only way out of obscurity." The two of them remained standing there for over a minute while the lieutenant searched the lord's face for any hint of deception or falsehood. Amberis remained passive, unmoving and without expression, under the scrutiny. He knew his younger cousin and the burning passion to escape his fate that drove him. That knowledge gave him confidence that his cousin would acquiesce. With a huff, Zaren reached down to pull out a brass ring of keys. It took a few seconds to pick the right one, but when he had it in hand, he jammed in into the lock. The bars separating them swung open with the sound of rusty metal grinding against itself. Amberis gave a nod of satisfaction before sweeping past his cousin and into the barracks common room. "Take me to where this new prisoner is," he said after Zaren closed and secured the gate. Zaren grabbed two torches and took him to the door opposite the gate. Once through the door, the environment rapidly deteriorated. The air was warm, moist, and reeked of organic waste causing even a hardened man like Amberis to fight to prevent his lunch from adding to the pools of blood and vomit already dotting the ground. Unlike above, there were no calls for mercy from the handful of cells. Most of the prisoners were silent, getting whatever sleep they could between interrogation sessions. Those that did make noise often only moaned in pain. Amberis had no love of such places, but there were times when hard things had to be done for the sake of the realm. Most of these prisoners were murderers, traitors, or spies, but there were a few of the gifted who had fallen into the forbidden arts or been driven mad and had to be locked away. This was the most secure place to put them because, long ago, dozens of wizards and hundreds of mages had invested great power into these stones that minimized the gifted's ability to wield magic here. The most powerful wizard could barely conjure flame enough to light a candle here. After marching down three long hallways that curved and twisted about, Zaren stopped beside a nondescript cell and nodded toward the inhabitant inside. Amberis held his torch up so he could see inside. When his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he frowned. It wasn't exactly how he wanted to meet his guest, but he hadn't been able to leave special instructions with those who brought him here because any special treatment would have drawn attention. Inside, a naked man was curled up in one corner with his back to the cell door. His filthy skin was covered in welts and bruises both fresh and old. His lice filled hair was matted and hang down to his shoulders. His joints seemed bloated after all the weight he had lost. When the prisoner didn't react to the light, Amberis pulled out his knife and ran its metal hilt across the bars. At the clinking of metal on metal, the prisoner jerked awake and shuddered in his corner. "Alvaren, Alvaren, Alvaren… What shall I do with you?" Amberis asked calmly. He did not expect an answer, but the prisoner managed to mutter, "You could kill me now." Amberis chuckled, "Why would I do that? It took a lot of risk and money to get you here." Alvaren gave him a wheezing laugh that devolved into a coughing fit. When he recovered, he said dryly, "Then you have wasted it. I am of no use to you." "Don't sell yourself short," chastised Amberis. "You are the king of the Sei." The man snorted in derision, "I was, until your allies conquered us three months ago." "Actually, it was five months ago," Amberis said matter-of-factly. "Since then, the Sua have also all but fallen and the Koshi will soon bear the brunt of Eastern might." "So you have come to gloat, then, is that it?" Amberis shook his head, though the prisoner could not see the gesture. "On the contrary, I am here to get my money's worth out of you." This got another dry laugh out of Alvaren. "I am worthless now, no good to anyone. Let me die and go before the Elements in judgment." "And what if I were to make you king once more?" asked Amberis cautiously. For the first time since coming down to these dungeons, he was not sure how things would go. If he couldn't persuade Alvaren Granad to fight for his crown, he would have to find another who might take his place. That would be time consuming and would delay his plans. As if waiting for his tormenter to break into laughter at a particularly cruel joke, Alvaren didn't immediately respond. When Amberis remained standing in silence, the prisoner wiggled around on the floor so he could face the gate. When he saw how serious Amberis was, he asked, "Who are you?" With a gallant smile, Amberis said, "I am Lord Amberis Rael, Lord of House Rael and first cousin to King Gevas Rael of Terula." The ragged prisoner blinked several times at this news. "Why would you help me?" "Because having you retake your throne would mean that the Angvardi lose control of your lands and people," Amberis answered quickly. The bags under the fallen king's eyes darkened considerably. "They are your allies, why would you want that?" There was a little heat in Amberis' voice when he responded. "The Angvardi will never be allies. We may not be at war while the king and his imperial whore continue their little affair, but when they are no longer in control, things will go back to the way they have been for thousands of years. Terula and Angvard have too much bad blood between them to ever be at peace. War will break out again, and this time, I mean for Terula to have the upper hand once and for all." "And how do the Sei fall into that?" "Do not play the fool, Alvaren. Even after experiencing defeat at the hands of the Angvardi, the Kingdom of the Sei is still the largest and most powerful of the northwest kingdoms outside the Krue, and the Krue don't leave their sacred forest. If you were to rally your people and rebel against Angvardi control, you would shatter their control over both the Sua and the Koshi. Sei is the gateway into the West for the Angvardi and with it sealed off, they cannot expand further." Alvaren chuckled at this thought. "We could not long stand against the Angvardi even at our full strength. What makes you think we would last against them now?" "As part of the conditions for my help, you would have to sign a treaty that made you allies with Terula. With that alliance and the additional lands that I have conquered in the Unification Campaigns, I would have the power to break the Angvardi forever. Terula was capable of fighting Angvard to a standstill before the Great Peace. Imagine how much more we could do with the collective might of the West under our control! We would finally have the resources and manpower to overwhelm the Angvardi and defeat them once and for all. Two thousand years of living in their shadow would be over." "Forgive me for being selfish, but what do the Sei get out of this? It seems like a very risky plan, especially if things don't go your way." "You would be given all of the Kingdom of the Sua, as well as some of the Koshi's land as payment for your alliance. When it is over, we would control Angvard and all of the East. With that treaty of alliance, you wouldn’t need to fear our attacks and we would have no reason to attack you." Alvaren looked skeptical, "But why would you betray your allies? I thought your king was staunchly in favor of this alliance as part of his religious campaign. Your Wayic priests blathered on long enough about the need to be unified and at peace for this Coming Darkness of yours." Amberis smiled craftily. "The prophecies say that we must be united, but it doesn't specify who we must be united under. One can't just wash away centuries of warfare by a single marriage. My cousin is a fool if he thinks that he can do so. The world will be united under one entity: Terula. I doubt that King Gevas will be around at that point, so I foresee no problems with the breaking of fellowship with Angvard." "I see," Alvaren said after a long pause. "If I should agree to help you, what are your terms? How do you plan on getting me out?" "My terms are simple: you will return to your people and raise a new army in secret. I will send men and some limited supplies with you to ensure you make it to your people safely and have something to start with. From what I have been able to gather, it seems that there are still a good number of your Seinari that are already engaged in sporadic resistance, so you should be able to quickly link up with them. When the time is right, I will give you the word to strike and you will lead your countrymen in rebellion against Angvard. "I will be taking care of the bulk of the Angvardi armies, but there will still be garrisons you need to handle. Should you succeed on your own in driving out the Angvardi and reestablishing your kingdom, then the only requirement I have of you is a treaty of alliance and the right of free passage for all Terulan armies and merchants. If I am forced to devote armies and openly fight the Angvardi in order to gain your independence, then you will pay a tribute of three times the yearly salary of each man fighting as well as two hundred pounds of gold a year for ten years in addition to the previous terms." There was silence for a full minute as the Sei king considered the situation. "You would turn on your own kin in order to do this?" "I have the greatest loyalty to my kin and House," Amberis said as he threw a glance over to Zaren. "However, I have no tolerance for traitors. In allying with the Angvardi and marrying their bitch of an empress, Gevas has betrayed all that it means to be Terulan. Had Uncle Vrastas known what his son would do, he would have smothered him as an infant before ever allowing Gevas to sit on his throne." "And what is to prevent you from betraying me?" Amberis shrugged. "I point you to King Nag'zsus of Tegas and tell you to follow his example. He submitted to the armies of Terula and the Way without all of the pointless bloodshed that other nations have forced upon themselves. In return, he has been made the governor of the new Realm of Tegas and, in return for supporting me when the time comes, will be given back full control of his lands once Angvard is defeated." Alvaren was not convinced and didn't bother to show it on his face. "That does not ensure that you won't betray him once Angvard is destroyed. Why allow for independent kingdoms when you can have it all?" "I guess you will have to trust me, then. Even if I do betray you, what do you have to lose? Your kingdom is already under foreign domination and you are, well…" his voice dropped off and he waved his hand at around to the foul dungeons he was standing in. "You have a point," the prisoner said wryly. "Let me ask you something: which of your borders has given you the least cause for concern over the centuries?" "What do you mean?" "I mean, from which of your borders has your kingdom been threatened the least? If that is too difficult a question, I will rephrase it. Has Terula ever invaded Sei unless provoked?" The defeated king was forced to shake his head. "No, not that I know of. It is true that we have faced more problems from our other neighbors, but what is your point?" "My point is that Terula has never had any interest in the Sei's lands. You have no resources we can't find easier elsewhere and you are too far north. That is why I am wanting to give you the Sua's and the Koshi's northern lands because they are too distant for us to bother with." "Then why bother with us in the first place?" asked Alvaren. "To deny the Angvardi of that strategic position, as well as whatever meager armies your kingdom could still field." That, at least, the king seemed to accept. "How would you get me out of here, then?" It was the only question asked so far that posed any risk to it at all. "You leave that to me," replied Amberis. "All I need to know is if you want to get out of this pit and back into a position where you can help your subjects. Will you sit back here and die while your people languish under foreign occupation?" Alvaren grinded his teeth together while he contemplated this. While he did, Zaren grabbed his cousin and pulled him back down the hallway. "Are you insane!" he hissed. "Of course not," replied Amberis evenly. He shrugged Zaren's grip off of his shoulder and brushed himself off. "I have been planning this for years." "You are planning treason!" "Yes…and no. As I told the Sei, it is Gevas who betrayed Terula first by tying us together with those Angvardi bastards." "He is our king, Amberis. More than that, he is a Rael. You can't be involved in this," pleaded Zaren. Amberis set his jaw and said harshly, "And look at how he was willing to simply toss you to the Vaserdeys. He doesn't view himself as a Rael, much less as a true Terulan. I have seen him and talked to him, Zaren. He truly believes this nonsense about becoming one and equal with the Angvardi. He even refused to have any more children with his bitch whore because he didn't want there to be any splitting of the thrones of either of our kingdoms." He slammed one fist into the other. "It is his plan to completely merge Angvard and Terula into one single kingdom under Raella before he dies!" "What?" "Yes, you heard me. When she reaches an appropriate age, both Gevas and the bitch Celienna will willingly forego sovereignty in favor of a single kingdom. They will then abdicate and turn their thrones over to their daughter. She will become the singular leader this new kingdom which will span from the Pausey Shoals to the Coasts of Blood." "That is insanity!" exclaimed Zaren. "Of course it is. The established leaders from both Terula and Angvard will be at each other's throats. Raella would be pulled a dozen directions at one by men far more cunning and treacherous than she is capable of handling. I know the girl. She is a sweet, naïve little thing that has no grasp on deception and is a stranger to guile. She won't last six months without her parents being forced to take over and that will only cause more problems because they can't live forever." "Surely they would make sure she was prepared," replied Zaren incredulously. Amberis shook his head. "I do not need to tell you that there are some that are born to kill, others born to lead. Some are at home in the treacherous halls of power, others are meant for the simplicity of farming. One would have thought that the offspring of two ruthlessly cunning dynasties would be a fierce opponent indeed, but that is not the case. Raella has too kind and gentle a nature to be trifling with politics or power. "She will not long hold onto power, and when she falls, the resulting power vacuum will have every single House and lord struggling to fill it. It will be absolute chaos and men will die by the millions. The lands we have conquered will revolt and we won't have the strength to stop them. The various Angvardi and the Terulans factions will be at each other's throats as much as they are their own. When the blood has been all spilt and the fires burned out, who knows what will remain? The East could become just like the West: fractured and divided into meaningless kingdoms always at war with each other." Zaren wiped his forearm across his brow and let out a long breath. "I see why you are doing what you are doing, even if I do not like it. I have seen enough traitors in these halls to know that most are nothing more than vile creatures. I would not have ever thought you would be one of them." Amberis clasped his fist over his heart, "I am not a traitor. I am a man who wants to see his kingdom and countrymen remain strong and free. The course our king has us set on will lead to war with the northerners. There is nothing we can do to avoid that fate, so I aim to make sure that Terula is strong and ready to face it when it happens." Zaren thought this over for a few moments, then transferred his torch to his left hand and offered his right to his cousin. Amberis did the same and clasped Zaren's forearm. "What do I need to do?" Zaren asked. "If the Sei king agrees to my terms, I will need you to engineer his escape. I will have men waiting for you at the Traitor's Walk tonight. Get Alvaren to them intact and you will have done your part for our cause." "I can do that. What will happen to me?" Amberis smiled, "There will be other prisoners that might need releasing, as well as some that need to be hidden away here. When the day comes, I will not forget you my cousin. There will be a lordship title and lands waiting for you when you emerge from the darkness and into the light." There was yearning in Zaren's voice when he whispered, "That is long overdue." "Of course it is. With Gevas out of the way, I will deal with the Vaserdeys and there will be nothing stopping Zaren Rael from claiming his rightful place in the royal court. Now, cousin, shall we go and see if our would be king has made his decision?" Zaren nodded and led the way back to Alvaren's cell. When they arrived, Amberis cleared his throat and asked, "What is your answer?" The helpless king looked up out of his his filth at the spotless silk clad figure of the lord standing in front of him and said, "I will do what I must to help my people. Elements spare my soul, we have a deal."

It was a bit short, but better than nothing. You need to come out with these more often. I understand school and all, but don't leave your readers hanging for so long. I am glad you have plans for your characters. I look forward to what you can do, especially with the fanon characters that don't really need to stay within basic parameters.

Yes, that is indeed some foreshadowing that I hoped would be fairly obvious, but it seems that the one I am thinking of is still quite safe. It really isn't a fair question to you because there are so many things in this chapter that give hints to the future, especially for poor Raella, but also for the world in general.

I am curious to hear what you think I was talking about. I want to see how easy it is for people to pick out so I can either make it more or less obvious.

You are a sneaky man, sir. I was in the middle of submitting the changes to your first three suggestions when you must have done something to mess up the server slightly because during your addition of new material, it messed up and said there was no data or something funky. Plus, it doesn't show that I edited even though I did. Well, I was about to get offended that you offered only corrections and didn't react at all to the content, but you fixed that so we are all good. To answer the changes: the first three were either oversights or errors and have been fixed (with a new sentence added in a bit after the first change to help it make more sense, though a casual reader wouldn't get that line anyway as it is foreshadowing). The whole realm/Realm thing was partially intentional, but eh, not messing with it. I originally intended any direct reference to the actual places themselves to be capitalized, but indirect references to the concept of realms in general to remain lower case, but then I thought "what the heck." When you pointed it out, I realized that was as foolish as capitalizing "World" every time in various Sci-fi stories. It has been fixed in the master document, but I am not going to go back here and fix it up as that would be annoyingly difficult without Find/Replace. As for the comma, I am not sure if it needs a comma, but it definitely needs some work on it. Basically, the intent of the campaign is to BOTH steal immortality and replace the Immortals. What I need to do is change the verb "replacing" with "replace" to make that whole thing a compound prep phrase or something. Anyway, I fixed that up a bit. As for the "gods" thing, that is intentional, entirely intentional. I checked and I never once capitalize the term "gods" or "god." The term is not used in conjunction with a proper name nor are they in reference to the Judeo/Christian God (which is always capitalized because that is His proper name). I would no more capitalize "god" in this reference than I would capitalize "spirit" in reference to a non-corporeal being (though not if they were part of the Immortal race known as the Spirits because then it would be a proper noun such as American or Australian and not just a description of what form they take). Yes, Raella is most definitely a genuine believer, as is Ansee, her personal priest/mentor. As with all organizations, there are true believers and those who would use the system for personal gain. The question you need to figure out is whether or not High Priest Brogath is a genuine believer or if he is simply using religion for personal power (as at least one of the Terulan High Priests does later on). Plus, did you catch the little hidden clue I left here? I won't say what it is, but it is quite important and is easily the largest foreshadowing I had in the chapter (which is saying something considering all that was here).

This chapter was a little hard to write at first. I knew that I wanted to get another Raella chapter in, but I wasn't completely sure what to do with her. I came upon the idea for the first section pretty quickly because I wanted to show a bit more of Nilgeth (the guy who approached Valnic about rebellion after his hands had been burned by the Empress) and give an example of how Raella's clairvoyant abilities work (a small one, at least). Then, over the weekend, while out hunting and away from a computer, the idea hit me. Why not use her to show the Wayic view of the Immortal Realm and the Great Desolation of Zazasp? We got the Kruish version from Lord Saekoris several chapters back, so why not the Wayic version? I already had a good deal about it prepared in my notes, but I had planned to save its revelation to the next book. I threw that out of the window and decided to just for it now and use it later on to flesh out Raella a bit and give her some purpose beyond being a pawn in Amberis' power games. Let me know what you think. _________________ Chapter 30 Born of two worlds and heir to both, there is a great weight upon the shoulders of the newborn Princess Raella of Unity. She is the source of hope for peace between two nations who have been at war for centuries. I do not envy the burdens she will have to accept when she is older. For now, let us all hope that she can enjoy her childhood before the crushing pressure of her birthright befalls her. — High Priest Grazam, October 8, 1031 3E Imperial Palace Angvard City Angvardi Empire October 8 Raella didn't like Ambassador Nilgeth. It may have been her gift of clairvoyance or simply the way his eyes always seemed to be on her, but she didn't feel comfortable around him. Her mother always told her to trust her instincts and right now, hers were telling her that he was nothing but trouble. She had no choice but to sit still upon her throne and accept his well wishes and gifts on behalf of Lord Zirtaellin, governor of Malorez, even if she didn't want them. It was her birthday today and all of the nobility and prominent individuals of Angvard were here to pay their respects and give lavish gifts. Normally, her birthdays were big affairs in the city, second only to the Empress' and First Day, but this year, those events were going to be nothing compared to the lavishness that her mother had planned for her. No expense was spared and nearly all of the governors and most of the major lords and ladies had made the trip to the capital to pay their respects. The palace guest rooms were packed full of partygoers and its halls were always lively with servants working to make sure everyone was happy. The reason for the extravagance was because she had been born eighteen years ago on this day. As per Angvardi law and tradition, eighteen was the age by which any ruler could come into their birthright. If her mother hadn't still been alive, she would have had a regent until today when she could be coronated. As it was, since Empress Celienna was still alive, Raella was to be given her first real authority. As a way to prepare her for leading the Unified Kingdoms, she was to be given ladyship of Palethstad, a proud and prosperous city on the mouth of the Bolseon River far to the east. The lord of the city had died three years ago without a suitable heir so the territory fell directly to the Crown. Her mother decided not to appoint a new lord over it in order to give it to her daughter when she came of age. Raella had never been to Palethstad before, but she would be journeying there after visiting her father in Terula. She wouldn't stay there for long, but she would have to form a small court and start dealing with the matters of the city as any lady would. Before she could do that, though, she had to survive the endless parade of well wishers who were giving her gifts, including men like the ambassador. "I am so dreadfully sorry to have to inform the Princess that Lord Zirtaellin is too ill to have made the journey to personally deliver you his gifts and express his hope that you will become the most pivotally important empress we have ever seen," Ambassador Nilgeth said in his silky smooth voice that always made her feel dirty. As much as she disliked the man, she knew that a princess and a member of the Imperial family must sometimes put on a smile even when they don't feel like it. Ignoring the fact that she wasn't entirely sure what he was getting at, she had do what was expected of her. With a well practiced smile, she replied, "I understand, Ambassador. It gets cold in Malorez this time of year and I would not wish Lord Zirtaellin to risk his health for the sake of a simple birthday." Nilgeth's blue eyes blinked slowly as he bowed with a flourish of his hand. "You are most gracious, my princess. Truly, you will only become stronger and wiser as you grow older." "We can only hope for the sake of us all if the prophets are right," Raella responded while trying not to let the smile plastered on her face waver. At this, he smiled on one side of his mouth and responded, "The prophets and the priests, Princess. Both have said the end is nigh for us. How exciting it must be to think that you might be the last of the Angvardi empresses before the Coming Darkness arrives to change things forever." "Exciting" wasn't exactly the word that Raella would have used. "Terrifying" would have been more appropriate, but she knew not to say as much. "Indeed, I am honored that the gods would believe me capable of leading those of the Way in such a harrowing time." "Well," he said with a conspiratorial wink that turned her stomach, "I for one am glad that our future is in such capable hands." He bowed deeply and back off to allow the next guest to address her. She was grateful that he was gone because as soon as he was, her stomach settled down and she felt a little more comfortable. The next petitioner was some minor noble from Kildar Province whose name she didn't even bother trying to remember. She just smiled and handed out generic greetings and various platitudes that really required little thought. The next two hours passed by the same way without anything truly memorable happening. The brief conversation with Ambassador Nilgeth was the only thing that stuck in her mind and that disturbed her greatly. After the presentation of the gifts, she was supposed to go and give her blessings to the five newly formed legions that were being sent to the Western Campaigns to help with the invasion of the Koshi. She begged off of doing that saying that she felt the need to spend some time in the presence of the gods to thank them for their many blessings. Though her mother had not been pleased, she allowed it. With her personal guard in tow, Raella walked through the beautiful, rosebush lined path that led between the Imperial Palace and the Temple of Eternal Remembrance, headquarters of the Tetrand of Angvard and home of the four High Priests. The path was a private one used only by nobility and the Empress' guests and most of them right now were at the various venues of entertainment offered in honor of her birthday, so the way was almost empty. She didn't mind because she loved looking at the marble and granite pillars with their hanging vines and the beautiful white flowers that grew on them. She always thought they complemented the lush red roses that lined the entire path quite well and wished that more places in the palace were decorated this way. When she reached the Noble's Gate, a side entrance closed to the general public, she paused to abase herself before the statues of the Tetrarchy over the door in preparation for her entrance. As she did, she remembered how, during the terribly dark days of the War of Lost Prophecy, when the war was going ill for Angvard, the High Priests and the prophets declared all was lost unless proper supplication was made on behalf of the emperor and the people of Angvard. After three weeks of negotiations, threats, and bargains, an accord was struck by which the crown would pay for the construction of a magnificent, towering temple to honor the gods and show the regret over the attack on the prophets in Malorez by soldiers under orders from Emperor Caterin. Part of the deal was that the temple would forever be the tallest structure in Angvard City and that any addition made to the Imperial Palace must also have one and a half times the value of the expansion donated to the temple. It was a steep price to pay, but it had restored the balance between the emperor and the gods and allowed Angvard to survive the war even if it lost all of its territory south of the Great River Tuo. It was a lesson that all subsequent emperors and empresses of Angvard held close to their heart. That single defiance of Wayic law had cost Angvard dearly and cost her superiority in the East. Caterin's line was nearly destroyed with only his second son, Plunark, surviving the bloody assassinations and terror. Emperor Plunark humiliated himself and the entire Imperial family in order to survive and end the civil war. Angvard had managed to pull together after a long struggle and remain as an empire with only southern lands being lost to Terula. Despite saving the Imperial line and possibly the empire as a whole, he was considered an outcast by later generations and looked down upon. Raella didn't like that because, in her mind, he did what was right in bowing before the gods and putting the benefit of the Angvardi people before his own. That was the duty of all rulers: to protect those they had been entrusted to rule. Still, she knew enough to keep that opinion to herself and not mention it to anyone lest her mother hear and punish her with hours of ranting from various historians and advisors. With her initial prayers completed, Raella opened the giant silver doors and went into the temple. Her guards were forbidden on such hallowed ground and remained outside, waiting for her return. The lack of guards didn't mean she was alone, princesses were never truly alone. There were two of the Crystal Guard, protectors of the Way, who immediately came to attention at her presence and fell in behind her as escort. An acolyte greeted her and directed her along the path to the Chapel of Mewela, her patron goddess. She knew the way well, but it was required that there be an escort for her within these parts of the Temple. Before they could reach her destination, a heavily robed figure stepped out of a small alcove and into the light. Raella gasped and quickly genuflected at the sight of High Priest Brogath, the mortal representative of the god Tantis in Angvard. "Your Grace," she said breathlessly, "I did not see you there." Brogath rested his hand atop her head. As soon as his fingers touched her glossy black hair, a tingle crept up and down her back. Her fingers and toes went numb for a second before she felt tiny pins pricking into them. She had met the High Priest of their supreme god once before that she could remember, though she was told that his predecessor had presided over her naming when she had been born. When she briefly met him years ago, he hadn't touched her or done anything except nod wish her a pleasant day. Now that he had, it was as though the power of the god whom he represented was flowing straight into her. On the surface, she felt insignificant and worthless, but that sensation was only fleeting. After the initial chilling contact, a great warmth sprang up from within her heart and spread throughout her body. She felt safe, entirely content, and happy like she hadn't since she was a girl and knew nothing of the world's troubles. When the High Priest spoke, his voice was as the wind flowing through the leaves of the Angrava Forest or water trickling through the fountains that surrounded the Palace. It was the most perfect voice she could ever imagine. "You were not meant to, child. I saw you walking down the hall and wished to convey the personal blessings of Tantis the Founder." Raella trembled at the very thought that the great god who established the laws of the universe and of Order itself would think to spend even a second considering one as insignificant as her. "I am not worthy to be blessed by him." With her head still bowed, she couldn't see him smile. "None of us are worthy, that is what makes the gods so special. It is through their love of us that they can tolerate our imperfections and flaws. Knowing of their great love, how can we not serve them with all of our hearts?" "We cannot do anything less," the princess replied. "Yet there are many who live in ignorance and do not know of the great love the gods offer," Brogath pointed out. He lifted his hand from Raella and clasped both of his hands together in front of him. She lifted her head to gaze up at him, "How could they not know? The priests say that recognition of the superiority of the gods is within us all even if we do not acknowledge it." Regret changed the High Priest's face and broke Raella's heart. His eyes which had been so full of strength moments before took on a glossy appearance full of concern. His eyelids dropped in loss to cover most of his eyes. His cheeks, once lifted by a warm smile, drooped in defeat. With a discreet wave of his hand, he dismissed the acolyte who had been escorting her leaving the two of them alone in the gloriously decorated hallway. His voice tried to remain strong, but emotion got the better of him, "I am afraid that so many in Teladia have been so long deceived by their false and spiteful gods that their hearts no longer can hear the quiet whisper of the Tetrarchy. They have been calloused to the love the true gods feel for them by the spite and apathy of their own pale religions. They are blind men marching aimlessly towards their destruction." She had always known this truth deep down, but to hear it from the High Priest himself was heartbreaking. Tears began to form in the corners of her eyes. "What can we do to save them?" When Brogath hesitated, Raella, without thinking, reached up and grabbed at the hem of his vestments with both hands. "Tell me, Your Grace! Tell me what it is that we can do? What would the gods have of me?" In the urgency of the moment, Brogath ignored her grave breach in protocol. He shook his head and muttered, "No, I should not tell you. It is not my place…" "Tell me what?" Raella pleaded. "Please, I must know what the gods want for me to do!" The High Priest paused before swallowing hard. "I was not to tell you this because we are not sure what it means." Raella went perfectly still and, not wanting to miss a single syllable, made no noise whatsoever. "The Prophets have confirmed it this news, but we have not yet released it to the public. Only a few people know of it, including Her Imperial Majesty." A look that might have been fear flickered on his face, but it passed before he could be overcome and stopped. He bent down to where his mouth was only an inch from her ear, "The One has been confirmed." Raella nearly fainted with the news. Her arms felt like jelly and fell to her sides in shock. The world around her spun with the magnitude of what she had just heard and she knew nothing would ever be the same again. She had grown up hearing whispered stories of the mysterious Master of Magic and that his arrival heralded the ending of the world and the Coming Darkness. Some of the things she had overheard or managed to read from forbidden books gave her nightmares for weeks. "What… what does this mean?" she whispered. Brogath composed himself enough to reply, "It means that we have so little time to reach all the lost souls before the Coming Darkness judges us all. If we are not Unified, we will all be lost. I fear that we are not doing enough and that our efforts will be for naught." This shocked her almost as much as hearing of the One. "But, my mother and father are doing everything they can to bring Unity to the Western heathens." "Yes, they are trying," he replied, though he wasn't convinced. "I do not believe that they are doing enough. The progress is too slow and our time is too short. There aren't enough men or money being put toward Unification." Now there was confusion on the young woman's face. "But, we were told that our campaigns had the blessing of the gods themselves." Brogath nodded at this, but his eyes were still sad. "And yet, our efforts clearly aren't enough. We have yet to fully subjugate the Koshi or the Gopea and the Krue remain untouched. The gods have shown us that the One is now among us and yet, we are not ready. Tell me, child, when the gods decree something and it doesn't work, where does the fault lie?" There was only one answer to that. "With us. We have failed the gods themselves and are doomed for it." The tears that had been forming now flowed freely down her cheeks. When he saw that, Brogath gently cupped her face and lifted her up to look into his warm eyes. "Do not despair, not all hope is lost." "What can we do then?" "We can pray, child. That much is obvious. We should sacrifice more of our time and efforts to carrying out Unification. We do not have the time to allow petty bickering or rivalries to stay our hand. More troops are needed to crush the heathen's resistance. More money is needed to train, equip, and sustain those troops. The pious must be taught so that they could become priests and carry the Way to those whom our armies have conquered." "I can speak with my mother!" exclaimed Raella excitedly as she rushed to her feet and started back up the hall from where she came. The High Priest grabbed her wrist and held on firmly. "No," he said forcefully but not harshly. "I must apologize if I gave you the impression that I thought Her Imperial Majesty was withholding her efforts. I do not believe that she could do any better than she is, but that is simply not enough." "Then what can I do?" "You must speak to your father. The King of Terula holds great power, especially when he is united with his beloved wife and daughter. When you travel south next month, you must do all that you can to get them to jointly pledge more troops and money to Unification. I know politics and the hard hearts of men, child, and I know that if your mother were to try to send more troops, the lords would protest that the Terulans were not doing the same. However, if both were to jointly declare a renewed push in the Unity Campaigns, then all would have to join them. There would be no excuse but to go along with it. "Together, in the warm South of Terula, you will not be hindered by the winter up here in the North. With a little more effort, the Terulans should be able to bring Unity to all of the Westerners in the South and then send their armies up north to help prepare for the push against the Krue." He took her shoulders and gently shook them. His eyes gazed straight into her soul and his voice was more insistent now than at any time during their conversation. "The Krue, my dear Raella. They are the key and they must be brought into Unity or all will be lost." "What is so special about the Krue?" asked Raella. Brogath stared at her for a few seconds. His eyes went back and forth between each of her eyes as though he were searching for something that only they could tell him. Another chill ran down her spine as she wondered if a High Priest could do exactly that, but she remained silent waiting for his response. When he at last spoke, he did so in a quiet whisper. "Because the Master of Magic, the one man who can save us all, is currently among them. He is their puppet and has unknowingly fallen into their web of lies and deceit. They wish to destroy us and the Way so that their pagan Spirit gods may be released and cover all of Teladia in darkness and despair." Raella was aghast. "How could anyone ever want that?" "The Krue know no better for they have been blinded. They believe that their Spirits are benevolent and equal to the Tetrarchy, but they have been deceived." He looked from side to side and pulled her into the alcove he had emerged from minutes ago. "Listen to my words, child, for in them lie the last hope for all mortals. "Before the start of time, the god Tantis saw that his wife, Mewela, was saddened. When he asked her why she shed tears, she told him that, while she loved him and their companions. Tantis dearly loved his wife and could not bear to see her suffer as such, so he called forth the other gods and they sought a way to alleviate her suffering. After a long discussion, they determined that it was time to create more beings for Mewela to love and who would return her to happiness. Like all beings, each god had their own skills and strengths, so each took upon themselves a role in the creation of these new children. "Tantis was the most logical, so he determined how the realm of these children would behave, the laws of nature, and what would be proper. He became known as Tantis the Founder because he founded the laws upon which everything is based upon. "Featwel was always the most mild mannered and agreeable of the gods. He preferred things to be in balance and strove to make sure all flowed in temperance without excess that could disrupt the laws established by Tantis. For this, he was named Featwel the Uniter because he brought unity and harmony to everything. "Salgeus was the strongest of them and was the most capable of ensuring longevity in the new realm through his fervent dedication to his fellow gods and the plan they created. He gave this new creation his own attribute of courage, determination, and his vigor for life itself. He is now known as Salgeus the Sustainer because it is through his strength and gifts that the realms are sustained and life can go on without withering and dying. "Mewela, being the only woman among the gods, was the only one with the capacity to create. When the other gods presented their plan to her, she was delighted and immediately set out to create this new realm with the help of the others. We know not how long it took to create, but when it was done, she became Mewela the Former for it was her that formed the entirety of creation." Brogath paused and looked down to see if Raella was still paying attention. She was hanging on every word in awe, but after decades of teaching, he could sense a question buried within her. "Speak now, my child, what troubles you?" he asked gently. Raella blinked several times and blushed. She looked down and nervously fidgeted with her hands. She didn't want to answer, but she could not ignore the order from the High Priest. She spoke hesitantly, fearing to be rebuked. "Forgive me, Your Grace, but that is a story that all children are taught from the earliest age. Why would you spend your precious time retelling it to me when there are so many other important things that plague Teladia?" Instead of growing angry, the High Priest smiled. "I tell you because it is time for you to hear the full story, not just what the commoners know. O Princess, be careful whom you tell these words to. There are many who would object to my doing this, and they are not people that even someone of my station can easily ignore." The hair on Raella's arms stuck up and the back of her neck tingled at those words. She didn't dare interrupt him to ask who in Angvard could cause the High Priest of Tantis the Founder, mightiest of all of the gods, to be concerned about their objections. She found herself standing on the balls of her feet in anticipation at this forbidden knowledge that he was imparting to her. This was the type thing that she yearned to hear but was constantly excluded from due to her age and her mother's trying to shelter her. Brogath continued his lesson. "I have told you what the Tetrarchy each contributed to the creation of the realm, but there are many important details I left out, details that are forbidden to speak. I believe it is imperative for you to hear this so that you know why Unity is so critical to our survival. "The story that I have told you is what every child knows as the tale of creation. However, the first thing that most don't know is that the Immortal and Mortal Realms were not created at the same time. The Immortal Realm was created first and existed for a time before our realm was created. "The second thing I have not told you was that the gods weren't always known as the Tetrarchy. That is a term we mortals came up with to describe the four gods. However, at the time before the creation of all, there were five gods." Raella couldn't help but gasp in surprise. Had he told her that he was in truth simply a beggar and that the sky was green and grass blue, she would have believed that before believing that there were five gods. She didn't know what he was doing, but right now, her belief that High Priest Brogath would never tell a lie was coming into conflict with her understanding of the Way and all that she had been taught. Seeing the disbelief in her eyes, Brogath nodded and said, "Yes, it is true. There were indeed five different gods. Before you shut yourself from that truth, listen to the rest of the story. Will you do that for me, my child?" Still hoping that there was truth to this, she nodded. Assured, Brogath continued his story. "The fifth god had a name just as the others, but I shall not profane this holy place by uttering it. Instead, I will refer to him as the name that all within the Way know him as: Chaos." When Raella's eyes grew round, he dipped his head once in affirmation that she had heard him correctly. "The one we now call Chaos was, at this time, considered a friend to the other gods. Like the others, he was part of the creative process that made the Immortal Realm. His gift to the new creation was one that would prove to be the most problematic and indeed, the one he would use to betray the others. He offered the element of choice, the unknown, and that which was not planned. Those that were created, he argued, should not be puppets to the will of the gods for then they would not be children who would love from choice, but rather pets who loved because that was how they were created. He also persuaded the gods that these created beings should not be given the infinite wisdom of the gods and that they should be born able to experience the Unknown and that which they do not know. The other gods, being swayed by Chaos' honeyed words, agreed to this never foreseeing how it would be used against them. "For a time, the gods—at least the four who became the Tetrarchy—were happy with their work. Mewela smiled constantly and was warmly embraced by her new children while Tantis stood by her side, pleased that their plan was working. They lived in peace for an eon, but while the four were satisfied, Chaos was not. He was jealous of the love Mewela had for Tantis and desired her for himself. Because he could never attain her love through normal means, he strayed to the extremes." It struck Raella as odd that the gods would feel such things like love and jealousy. She had never considered that they would share such…mortal…feelings. Her hand went up to the silver, star shaped pendant that hang about her neck just as she did whenever she was nervous or extremely excited. The pendant had been with her for as long as she could remember, but she didn't know who gave it to her. She could hardly believe what she was hearing, but coming from the High Priest, she couldn't question it. If anyone knew what they were talking about, surely it would be him. "His plan was savage, brutal, and would have ramifications that were far reaching," Brogath continued. "If he could not have her through love, he would have her through force. Alone, he could never hope to defeat the four of them, especially Salgeus, but he was crafty and devious. The other gods had but one weakness: their ever growing love for their creations, the Immortals. "Knowing that they had free choice to do as they pleased, he hatched a horrible plan to use the Immortals for his own purposes. One by one, he seduced many of them to do his bidding and start a rebellion against the other gods. He did this by using their inability to see the future to create fear of it. That fear was quickly blamed—wrongly—on the controlling nature of the other gods who didn't want to share power as gods. The Immortals, Chaos claimed, were not beloved children, but were rather slaves created to fawn over the gods. He convinced them that he wanted them to be equals and would help them achieve godhood if they would join him. In truth, he only wanted to take control of the Immortal Realm and use that control over her children to force Mewela to leave Tantis and submit to him as her husband. "Featwel, being a god of harmony, attempted to reach out to the fallen Immortals, but the grip of Chaos' lies were too strong and few were saved. Salgeus the Sustainer was forced to lead massive armies of Immortals against the hordes of corrupted ones and Chaos in a war the likes of which our mortal minds cannot fully comprehend. When it was over, neither side could claim full victory. Chaos and his followers were driven back, but not completely destroyed. They remained in exile, broken and bitter but still a threat. "Chaos had been stopped, but at a terrible price. Because of the war and the fighting they had taken part of, all of the Immortals were tainted. No longer did they have direct access to the gods, but could only interact with them at a distance and for very short periods of time. If Mewela had been saddened by loneliness before creation, she was now utterly devastated at the loss of her children. She went into deep despair and remained alone from the other three gods of the Tetrarchy." "The Book of Mourning," whispered Raella. The book was one of the sacred texts that was attributed to inspiration by the gods. She had always been taught that it was sent to show mortals that the gods understood and sympathized with the sorrows of this world, most specifically to the loss of loved ones. A majority of the most powerful passages were dedicated to consoling parents who had lost children. A bit louder, so he could hear better, she added, "That was about Mewela, wasn't it?" Brogath smiled grimly. "You are a bright child. Yes, most of the Book of Mourning was about Mewela's loss after this great war. I believe that she wanted us mortals to know that not only did they understand sorrow, but that they had experienced it and knew what it was like." "I never knew." Suddenly, she was sad. She was not a mother herself, but she had seen women wailing as news of their son's death in battle reached them. She had seen the haunted looks on the faces of parents who had lost their baby to sickness. She could imagine how horrible it would be to lose her parents. When she was twelve, she had chosen a member of the Tetrarchy to more fully devote herself to. She had chosen Mewela the Former as her patron because she thought at the time that the goddess must have been especially brave and strong to be the only woman among the gods. This revelation totally changed her view of her goddess and made her more real than ever. "As before, Tantis and the other gods were moved by Mewela's suffering and tried to make it better. No matter how hard they tried, they couldn't console her. At last, Featwel came up with the idea of creating a new Realm, one in which the Immortals and gods alike were limited within. "The others were skeptical, but in the end, they realized that nothing else was going to ease Mewela's suffering. Once again, each of the gods contributed their skills, but Tantis was not willing to make the same mistake twice. Knowing that Chaos would attack again, Tantis used his power as the creator of laws to make some key changes. Instead of creating immortal beings that could revolt and remain as a thorn in their side forever, he wanted a way to erase these new beings. Thus arose the concept of mortality, something not even Chaos had foreseen. "One of the greatest problems that Mewela faced now was loneliness and separation from her children. Because they knew that any realm created would eventually be tainted by Chaos, the thread of being separated from their Mother would eternally exist and always be at the back of Mewela's mind. "To fix this, Tantis created a new law within the framework of mortality. Yes, these new mortals would eventually die as a safeguard against the eternal rise of evil, but there would be positive thing out of death. Within each mortal resides an immortal soul. The taint of war and corruption would pass on within the mortal flesh, but that immortal soul would live on and be permanently united with the goddess who loves them. "However, as one final safeguard for themselves against those who had fallen to Chaos, Tantis decreed that only those with pure souls could ever be embraced by their Mother. That means that those who loved Mewela and the Tetrarchy in life would be unified with them in death. Within the priestly circles, this concept is called the Unification of Souls, or rather Unity. "This is where we came up with the name for our attempts to bring peace to Teladia and unite all of mankind under the Way. We do this so that all may be brought into the love of Mewela rather than being cast out to dwell in darkness with Chaos. "And now we get to the point of my story and what is so crucial for you to understand. Long ago in the First Era, there was a large and powerful empire. Men in those times had forgotten the gods and turned to pagan religions or the belief in their own strength. The greatest among them, Mizael whom we now call the Foolish, was jealous of the immortality of the other Realm. Through tremendous effort and unimaginably powerful magic, he tore a hole between the Mortal and Immortal Realms with the intent of launching a campaign to steal the secret to immortality and replace the Immortals as the chosen of the gods. "Because their arrogance blinded them, they were unable to see the truth of things until it was too late. Mankind was never meant to be immortal or have the powers those beings wield. They never understood the true purpose of mortality, or indeed that it was the greatest gift the gods could ever have bestowed upon us. The hubris of Mizael and those who were with him would prove to be catastrophic for our Realm. "No matter how strong they may have been, Mizael and his followers were mortals and they could never hope to claim immortality or defeat those who already had it. In their fury at being attacked, the Immortals lashed out at this Mortal Realm and destroyed many of mankind's most beautiful and magnificent cities. Millions were killed in that one sided war before the Tetrarchy stepped in and stopped the infighting. The gods ordered their Immortal children back into their own Realm and sealed the breach between Realms, but not before it was too late and vast portions of land were left desolate forever. We now call this place the Eascand Desert and no water can exist on its surface even to this day. "In his disgust at both the hubris of man and how quickly the Immortals had turned on those who were all but helpless against them, Tantis turned his back on both Realms. Mewela remained loving all of her children, but had grown cautious of what they could do to themselves and kept herself a somewhat of a distance. Featwel, ever the voice of peace and reason, remains to this day as our constant intercessor while Salgeus constantly keeps watch over both Realms for any breach. "Chaos had been delighted at the destruction caused by the Immortals and saw how the gods had been hurt and forced into action. He was inspired by what happened and hatched his latest, darkest plan yet. If he could not win against the immortal Immortals, he might yet have a chance with the mortals. With that in mind, he conspired to open multiple gateways between the Realms and unleash his own fallen Immortals against us in a massive, terrible war. Even if the benevolent Immortals could react and protect us, fighting a war in this fragile Realm would be devastating. This, we know as the Coming Darkness. "We do not know why, but the Tetrarchy could not entirely stop Chaos from bending the laws of Tantis to create the openings. They could only delay them for a time while they warned us and gave us a chance to prepare. What they could do, however, was do a little altering of their own. This resulted in the creation of the One, the Master of Magic, the one individual who could one day soon save us all from the Coming Darkness. But, as part of Chaos' influence in the creation process, the future for our kind is not fixed. We can make choices and influence our destiny. Just as the One may choose to save the world, he may also choose to destroy it." Brogath fixed Raella with an intense stare as he finished up. "Right now, that One is currently under the influence and control of the misguided and deceived Krue. It is imperative that we free him of their webs and allow him to fulfill his purpose in saving us all from Chaos." "How do we do that?" Raella asked. "By conquering the Krue and bringing the message of the Way to them," Brogath answered. "It won't be easy as they are a powerful and determined race, but it must be done. To do that, we must have Terulan forces from the south to boost our armies." He dug a finger into the center of Raella's collarbone. "You, princess, must convince your Royal Father to send Terulan forces north early, before the rest of the South has been brought into Unity. We do not have the luxury of years to complete Unity, we must do it now, before the One has been too corrupted as to no longer know what is truth and what is Chaos' deception." Sadness once again entered the High Prophet's eyes. He placed both of his warm hands on her thin shoulders and said with reluctance, "I wish there was some other way to avoid placing this burden upon one so young as you, but we have no choice. If we are to be saved, we must act quickly and swiftly. Empress Celienna has many men, but not enough. We need the Terulans in order to defeat the Krue and free the One, that much was always known. Now, it is up to you to convince King Rael to send those men north throughout their warm southern winter so that we might be able to march against the Krue in the spring. Only you have a chance to convince him, he would expect everyone else of having a hidden agenda. Can you do this for us all?" Raella gulped and once again fingered her pendant. Her heart was racing within her chest and her palms were sweating. This was what she had always wanted: something important that she could do save her people. "Of course," she said with little hesitation. "I will do my best." "You must do more than your best, my child. You must succeed, the fate of Teladia rests in your hands now." After escorting the young princess to the Shrine of Mewela for some much needed devotions, High Priest Brogath returned to his private quarters confident that his words had not fallen on deaf ears. The girl would do everything within her power to get the Terulan armies to attack the Krue. At least this had gone well. When he opened the door to the suite that served as his quarters, he was dismayed to see that he had a guest, one he was quite familiar with. "What is it?" he said coldly. "Did you tell her?" the man asked. "Of course I did. I told her everything that she needed to know, even some things that are dangerous to say." The man leaned forward and placed a hand menacingly on the hilt of a long knife at his belt. "You didn't tell her about the Balance, did you?" Though they were within the heart of the Temple of Eternal Remembrance, the seat of Wayic power in the North, all the guards at Brogath's call would not be able to stop this man before he struck out. Even then, this was not the first time Brogath had been threatened before. In truth, he had no fear of this man because he had a power at his command that was far greater than a steel blade: magic. Instead of cowering, he remained tall and confident if not a little dismissive as he replied, "No. She knows exactly what she needs to know and nothing more. I know the risks involved in what we are doing. She learned a great deal of truth behind Formation, but not everything. Nobody can afford for her to learn of the full story or of the Balance, not yet anyway. I know that probably better than you ever will." The hand slowly slid from the knife hilt as the visitor was satisfied. "Good, then I will see you next season. Until then, I have work to do." With those words, Ambassador Nilgeth left the High Priest's quarters and vanished into the labyrinth that was the temple.

Good, I am glad he isn't a vampire. That wasn't what I was thinking, but I can see how you may have thought that. There are many forms of immortals, and most of them don't suck blood.

Please look at the rules at the top of the forum and edit in the necessary information (like rating and whether you want critique). Other than that, I look forward to this. It appears to be the journal of some sort of immortal who has lived through the ages. If so, I am most interested and am willing to provide historical context and help if you need it (I do have a Masters in what amounts to history and political science).

Fascinating. I am not sure where this is going, but I will try to read it.

I tried to respond to this last night, but the site wasn't submitting. Anyway, I don't think there are monkey wrenches in Thedas at this time. I noticed several modern references (b-line also sticks out) and phrases that really shouldn't be part of this. Other than that, you have done well. There is a decent balance of characters and you have plenty of description. I had given up on the idea that you would ever finish this, so it is a good thing to see you post again. I suggest that you focus on only one project at a time. Don't spread yourself out so thinly that it takes months to offer an update. Do one at a time that way you can actually finish them.

Saledaur is no more a title than "servant" would be. It is merely a description of what he is like "warrior" or "guard." In some instances, I may capitalize it if I connect it to his name, much in the way we capitalize "Lord" only when in reference to a specific name (or God) like "Lord Black was lord of many lands." About no new chapters, I lied. I really meant "no new chapters covering Syler and Co." There will be at least one new chapter on Raella and great expansions of others (which get partial chapters) coming up in the break while Syler is recovering.

Okay, last all new chapter for a while (I hope). This one is sort of a continuation of the transition from last chapter. No, I didn't get to the beard part, but oh well, there is always next chapter. In this one, I get to have a big pow-wow with several of the "Team Syler" players. Really, the only one missing is Vekla, and for good reason. It was a bit of fun to throw everyone together, especially poor ole Delmonor who just loves eating and drinking (as he did in the later chapter when they were feasting here). I got to have some fun here with the character dynamics, but alas, I must restrain myself with extra dialogue. The entire thing sets up the change I have decided for the novel, mainly due to time and also because I never liked the part where they go to Sua Tles and are ambushed. Make no mistake, they are going to get ambushed, but not there and not like that. Anyway, here is the next bit. I am sure you will find some errors, so please lay them out and I will fix them up. ______________ Chapter 29 In the hierarchy of nobility within the Kruish clans, there are none as great and respected as the Inthaley, the Clan Lord. They hold great power and control within their territories where they reign as kings or emperors. The only authority over the Inthaley is the Menhiilaus Zanaer, the Great Council of elders, clan lords, and respected members of society that occasionally meets to settle differences between the clans or to set policy for all Krue. — The Krue: A Valiant Race by Terl Fongalto Clan Lord's Estate Thwrud Subeleth October 4 At long last, they were able to escape the Clan Hall and get into the relative privacy of Lord Saekoris' estate. Even that minor feat had taken a full honor guard of a hundred warriors culled from among the best of the two companies that had presented themselves for Syler's inspection earlier. Syler had argued against such pomp, but Vekla told him in no uncertain terms that it was not an option. Delmonor joined her in pointing out that there were plenty of people who might not be too keen on having him as their lord and an ambush in the streets, while dishonorable, was not unheard of in such times. He assured him that in time, things would settle down, but for now, he needed to stay under close protection. Vekla left him at the gateway to the estate that was now his and said she had work to do. Syler, thinking of her father's body, asked no questions. She had already saved him a great deal of trouble in the hall, he didn't want to intrude on her mourning any further. Resigning himself to the hundred strong bodyguard that began to fan out throughout the perimeter of the estate grounds, Syler and his friends entered the grand wood and brass doors of the estate. They were met by an excited man dressed in fine wool robes and who proclaimed himself to be the saledaur, Torrvel Kagadan. He quickly figured out that a saledaur was a sort of overseer or steward for the estate's servants and guards whose responsibility it was to make sure things ran smoothly around the place so the lord could focus on other, more important things. Syler was grateful that the man spoke the Common Tongue because it made life so much easier for him. It took a few minutes, but he realized that it was Torrvel who helped show him around the house last evening when they were brought here for the night. Torrvel was excited to explain to his new lord that that he now had eight female servants, five male servants, two chefs, a stableman, and a dozen permanently stationed guards at his every command. His estate had six guest rooms in addition to the master's chambers, an armory, a dining room for private dinners, a feast hall for public feasts, a small library, a study, an expansive cellar, a kitchen, quarters for the servants and guards, and most importantly, stables for up to fifteen hasuan. For Syler who had never lived in a house with more than five rooms, this was a palace beyond all of his dreams and expectations. And yet, he hated it. Even as the nervous and excited servants showed him around, he only wanted to get out of here. He was furious at the Krue for their ridiculous customs and the bloodshed he had been forced to commit and witness because of them. He only tolerated it because Bronwyn didn't want to make a bad impression. Had it been up to him, he would have rejected this all without second thought, but it wasn't. Crusos' warning about what he would do should he not embrace all of this was still very fresh on his mind. He didn't know what the devious Element had in mind, but from what he had been told, it probably involved a lot of bloodshed and violence. Syler wasn't a leader, he didn't want to send men into battle to die or be responsible for the lives of the people in Clan Thwrud. He wasn't even a Krue, and now he was supposed to lead them. They had altogether too much faith in prophecy if they were going to trust him to be their leader. At last, the tour was over and they were able to clean up for supper. Though the worst of the Lord Yaegran's blood had been wiped off of his face and hands with a damp cloth back at the Clan House, there was still a dark brown crust around and under his fingernails. He was not exactly fit for dining anywhere and was eager to at least wash his hands and face. They quickly washed up in the small communal washroom that was connected to the feast hall. It wasn't long before they were sitting in front of a rather large and long table waiting for their food to arrive. It appeared that the chefs were eager to display their culinary skill and make a good first impression on their new master because they had excitedly informed him that there would be a great feast in his honor. Though he wasn't hungry, Syler couldn't say no for the sake of the others. Against his better judgment, Syler sent out a servant to find Growald and Tald and invite them to the feast. He also insisted that Delmonor stayed as well, both out of gratitude for the man's help today and because he wanted a Kruish warrior who actually spoke his language just in case he needed to communicate with the warriors guarding him. He doubted that any of the warriors would take kindly to receiving orders through a servant. He also sent word that Growald's men were to be given accommodations at whatever inns the city had, but that they were to stay within those places under guard. There was no point in causing problems by having them roaming around and offending one of the natives. It was better to have them safely tucked away and out of sight. "Well, today was a lot of fun," said Lamastus jovially. Their food wasn't yet out, but the servants had given them plenty of drink options ranging from juices to beer, ale, wine, and mead. "Don't even start," cautioned Syler. He was still in a sour mood. To top it off, whatever the healer woman gave him was beginning to wear off and his calf was hurting again. "There is no need to take it out on him," chided Bronwyn. "It hasn't exactly been an enjoyable experience for us." "Yea, we ain't had such a good day," added Havert. "We all are sorry for what they ha' done ta ya, but it ain't no reason to take it out on us. We are yer friends." In a far more serious tone than before, Lamastus said, "Just try to relax, the worst should be over. Assuming there is no coup attempt—and I sincerely doubt it after the display back at the inthadaeka—things should start to calm down." Syler sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "Okay, I will admit, I am not in the best of moods. I am quite tired of everything and just want to rest. I am sorry for how I have been snapping at all of you today." "There is no need for forgiveness," replied Alltis. "It has been an exhausting few days for you and we understand that. Few men could have held up as well as you have under these circumstances." "Just try to enjoy the food when it comes," advised Lamastus. "I find that everything is better with food and ale in the belly." Delmonor grunted in agreement, and raised his mug a little before chugging its contents down. Syler gave him a curious glance, but didn't say anything. It was the warrior's second cup of ale and he was already reaching for the pitcher to refill it. Syler wasn't going to begrudge the man a little ale after the uncomfortable day he had surely faced playing mediator and translator. "Well there, I see ya have done well for yourself," a loud voice interrupted. Syler groaned to himself as he turned his head to look at the new arrivals. Growald strode into the room and sat himself down beside Delmonor like he owned the place. Tald, at least, was a little more respectful and gave Syler a courteous nod of appreciation at being invited. Now that everyone was here, the servants began serving the feast. The sight of large plates heaping full of thick cut beef, venison, and various fowl still sizzling from the fires was enough to remind Syler that he hadn't eaten since yesterday when talking with Lord Saekoris. Bowls overflowing with buttered and diced potatoes with radishes, carrots in a garlic and pepper sauce, and beets swimming in butter were served with the meats. Warm breads made with rye, wheat flour, and even potato starch were served alongside honey, jam, and butter. Last on the list was a variety of assorted cheeses from cow, goat, and even hasuan milks. Despite his earlier lack of appetite, Syler was unable to resist the sight and smell of such foods and ate a small amount. The others had no problem digging in, especially Delmonor and Growald. While they ate, Syler and Bronwyn told of what happened since they parted companies at the border of Subeleth, though they left out certain details from what happened in the morning. When Havert expressed his disbelief, Delmonor began eagerly confirming what was said while spraying bread crumbs and droplets of ale all around him. When Havert repeated his disbelief, the Kruish warrior took offense and even pulled out a knife before Syler and the others were able to convince him that Havert was merely making a common saying and that he wasn't really calling Syler a liar. With cheeks flushed red, Delmonor sheathed his sword and offered his apologies. Growald, for the most part, seemed especially interested in what happened with the Elements. When he spoke of them, there was an almost wistful gleam in the Seinari's eyes that Syler hadn't seen before. Syler went into as much detail as he dared, but still kept parts of it to himself. There were some things he just didn't want anyone, especially Bronwyn, knowing. When the stories had been told, the subject moved on to the future. "So, Syler, what do you plan on doing now that you are lord of a Kruish clan?" Lamastus asked. Syler swallowed another gulp of mead before replying, "The same thing I plan on doing when we left Kubei. I want to go after my sister." There was silence for a few moments as those at the table glanced at each other trying to decide how to respond to this. It was Growald, as usual, who decided to barge in. "And what are you goin' to do about your responsibilities here?" Syler shrugged, "I didn't ask for them. The people of Thwrud are going to have to learn to live with having a foreign born blacksmith who doesn't care about power or politics in charge of things. I am sure we can come to some sort of arrangement where the lesser nobility runs things in my absence." "You can't just walk off and expect things to be okay. These people need a leader and you need to learn how to lead. War is coming and you are going to need an army if we are going to survive this at all." Syler wasn't moved. "I am getting my sister and I don't care what you or the Krue or even the Elements have to say about it. If you don't help me, then get out of the way because I will cut down anyone who tries to stop me from getting her." Growald threw his hands up in the air in disgust. "Have you learned nothin' here, boy?" Syler skewered him with a fiery glare. With pure venom in his voice, he said, "I believe that will be the last time I hear you call me 'boy.' I am done being insulted and mocked by the likes of you. In fact," he looked at Delmonor, "if he calls me 'boy' again, I want you to kill him where he stands." The Kruish warrior smiled happily and slammed a half eaten turkey leg on the table. He tried to say something, but his mouth was full so nobody could understand him. Growald wasn't impressed, and he said so. "You will need a lot more than a drunken Krue to take me on." Lamastus smiled sweetly and said, "Don't worry, Lord Penion here has another hundred and twenty warriors on this estate alone that would be happy to help Delmonor here out. And if they don't get the job done, the two companies of warriors we saw earlier today would likely be willing to give it a shot, though I personally don't think they will be needed." "Lamastus!" admonished Bronwyn with a shove. "Syler wasn't being serious." When her husband didn't respond, she turned to him with wide eyes. "You are serious? You would really kill this man if he insulted you again?" Syler ignored her, but continued to stare at Growald who, in turn, met his glare and returned it. The table was silent for a full minute while the two of them stared each other down. Havert looked nervously between his two friends, clearly not wishing to have to get in between them should another fight break out. If anything, Tald looked ashamed at the actions of his superior and kept his head down and focused on his shuffling food around his plate. Delmonor had already gone back to eating the turkey leg while Alltis and Bronwyn waited silently and perhaps a little bit impatiently for the men to sort things out. At long last, the tension was broken when a mighty guffawing laugh erupted from deep within Growald's chest. He slammed the table causing plates and cups to rattle and continued to howl while Syler remained furious. "There is the man that ya need to be!" exclaimed Growald between fits of laughter. "You have a backbone after all, good to know." "I am not joking with you," replied Syler sourly. "I am quite finished with your jabs and insults." Growald sobered up and shrugged. "Okay then, I will make you a deal. You act like a lord and I will treat you like one. You act like a child, and I will continue to call you 'boy.'" "There are no deals here. Through no small part of your own, I am now lord of this clan and as such, this is my house. I will not suffer insults under my own roof. Is that excessively clear to you, or do I need to carve it in your skull?" Growald's mouth opened to respond, but Bronwyn cut him off. "Enough!" She stood up, planted both fists on the table, and fixed both of them with the same contempt she would give naughty children. "I am tired of this game between you two and it will stop now." "Bronwyn—" Syler sputtered. "No. I know that you two have never gotten along, but I will no longer stand by and watch as the two of you claw at each other like bitter old men or immature young boys." To Growald, she said, "You have done nothing but insult Syler and mock his every move. I understand you had some sort of role to play as this Guardian or whatnot, but that is over. The games are finished and now it is time to be upfront with us all. If you do not stop the petty attacks, you will have to deal with me and I guarantee you, when I am finished with you, you will wish that all you had to worry about were a bunch of Krue." She turned on Syler to catch him in the middle of a smirk. "Don't think you are so above this, Syler Penion. You aren't merely a victim here. You instigate things and take offense at the slightest thing. I think you have a perverse liking to trying to finding the negative in every single little thing that Growald does. You launch your own attacks and push him and all of us as well. It has driven me crazy enough and I have been unconscious through most of it. I can only imagine how wearying it is for everyone else. You are a lord now, and my husband. I will not tolerate your childish feud with Growald, not when we have plenty of enemies and threats elsewhere to deal with." She glared at both of them in turn before asking, "Is that clear?" Growald was first to act by raising his cup saying, "I admit, I was wrong before. You got a good one there, Syler. Treat her well for she is worth it. Very well, my lady, we shall have an end to the ill feelings between us if he is willing." "Syler?" she asked with a demanding arched brow. Syler worked his jaw back and forth a few times before blowing the air out of his lungs and sagging a little in defeat. "Okay, you are right. I will stop the bickering and move on. He has been a help to me even if I didn't like how he did it." It wasn't completely what she wanted, but Bronwyn was satisfied. She nodded once and sat back down. "Now that that is settled, we can talk about going after Karusa." "Syler, my friend," Lamastus said, "you know I completely support going after your sister, but there is something you need to consider." "And what is that," replied Syler suspiciously. "Your leg. I have seen wounds like that fester and they can cause men to lose a leg or worse. Since mages can't work their healing magic on you, you have no choice but to let the leg heal naturally." Syler didn't respond to that for several moments before pounding his fist on the table in frustration. "I don't know why I didn't think of that," he admitted. "I have been so exhausted and focused on surviving people trying to kill me or my friends that I didn't even consider my leg stopping me." "It hasn't stopped you, dear," Bronwyn said soothingly as she lay her hand over his. "It just has slowed you down a bit." Lamastus cleared his throat and said, "That is where I come in." "How?" asked Syler. "Well, it could take a few weeks for that leg to fully heal up and that isn't a bad thing. Lord Saekoris and, as much as it pains me to admit, Growald were right about your future. There are too many coincidences and unexplained things going on to ignore. You are needed here to solidify your authority and make sure nobody tries to kill us all when we get Karusa back. After all, we are going to need a safe place to live and right now, the safest place I know of is here among the Krue." "What are you suggesting, Angvardi?" grumbled Growald. "I am suggesting that you send me ahead to infiltrate the garrison at See Sei and figure out where they took Karusa. That may take some time, but I can do it and have the information by the time you have healed up and taken care of things here. We could meet somewhere, say five miles west of See Sei and head off after her when you are ready." "That sounds quite dangerous," commented Alltis. "What if they discover you?" Lamastus shrugged. "I am an Angvardi and a charming one at that, if I may say so." He ignored Growald's short of derision and continued on. "I think I can talk my way out of anything that comes my way. Plus, if you would remember, I have the vambrace that the governor's operative was wearing. I should be able to bluff my way through posing as one of his operatives. Nobody questions those men because they have the authorization to kill anyone they deem necessary." "You would do this for me?" said Syler softly. All humor left Lamastus' expression and he said with solid conviction, "Of course I would. I pledged to help you find her and so I shall. You may not believe it, but I have come to believe that you are indeed someone special, someone worth fighting for. It might not have been explicitly said before, so I will say it now." He clasped his right fist over his heart and said loudly and clearly, "I, Lamastus Fean, do hereby proclaim my sworn oath to serve you, Lord Syler Penion, and to follow your commands and the commands of your heirs until you have no more need of me or death claims me." "Just dandy," muttered Growald as he slapped his face with his palm. "Just don't you go expectin' me to preen like that." A look from Bronwyn cut off anything else he might have said. Syler ignored Growald's comments entirely. His attention was on the black haired Angvardi that had just pledged his service to him. "That means a lot more than you may know, Lamastus. I accept your oath and service and hope to live up to your expectations." "Do I hafta do it?" whined Havert. "Ya know I am always with ya." Syler smiled, "Havert, you crazy lout, I didn't give you a choice whether or not to follow me. You are stuck since you are the one who got me into this trouble in the first place." Havert placed his hands on his hips and asked pointedly, "And how do ya figure that?" With a jerk of his thumb in the direction of Growald, Syler explained jovially, "It was you who pointed Growald here my way. Without him, I wouldn't be here among the Krue or stuck with a lordship title." "But then ya wouldn't have Bronwyn without Growald," the redhead retorted. Syler huffed at that which elicited a chuckle from the Seinari. "That doesn't mean that you and he didn't get us all into this mess." "Things could be worse," Alltis pointed out. "We could still be out on the road, near starving, and close to freezing to death. This may put us in danger, but it is a danger we can overcome together." "Very true," admitted Syler. "I am grateful to the both of you for staying at my side when you could have had an easier time off on your own." "We couldn't just go off and leave ya on yer own with Bronwyn as she was." Syler shook his head in disagreement. "But you could have, and you didn't. That is why I owe you a both a major debt of gratitude." Delmonor let out a large belch that drew the attention of the entire table. At the sound of silence, he looked up to see what was happening. As soon as he figured out it was because of him, he looked as sheepish as a fierce, red splattered warrior could and managed to mumble, "Fuswau," before finding something interesting in the bottom of his cup to stare at. Eager to get back onto his previous suggestion, Lamastus asked, "So, will you let me go and find where your sister is?" "If you think you can do it, then who am I to say no? You can leave when you are ready and we will meet you five miles due west from See Sei as soon as we can get there." "Excellent. I will wait for you until the end of the month. If you haven't shown by then, I will assume something went wrong on your end and try to make my way back here. Likewise, if you haven't heard from me by then, assume I was captured or killed and try your own luck at finding her." "That sounds good. I will make sure Torrvel supplies you with whatever you need and that there is an escort to get you out of Subeleth without problems. Delmonor, would that pose any problems?" There was quiet while the warrior swallowed a mouthful of grilled potato cubes. When he was done and had washed it down with a gulp of ale, he answered, "No, bwet ley. As inthaley, you have the ability to send anyone along the public roads to the border. Per law, no clan may attack or interfere with any other clan's members on the public roads unless they have declared war upon them." "Wait," asked Syler. "Are you telling me that clans declare war on each other?" The bearded warrior nodded eagerly, "Yes, and quite often. You pandraukhinti might think we Krue are united, but that is only against threats from outside. There is always fighting between the clans for many reasons. Right now, there are at least two wars going on that I know about." Syler was scratching his beard thoughtfully while taking this in. "I never knew. Is there anyone that is at war with Thwrud?" "None at the moment, but I would watch out for the Larossi. Them never did like us and want our eastern farmlands." "Thank you for the information," Syler replied darkly. A thought occurred to him, "What is your part in all of this, Delmonor? Why did you get assigned to me and why have you stuck around?" The warrior blinked a few times and tried to clean his grease covered hands on his chest. "I was a bolder, a guard, for Lord Saekoris, one of many. I think I was picked because I know the Outsiders Tongue from when me osraph taught me." "Your what?" asked Syler. "His father," answered Bronwyn. Delmonor nodded, "Yes, me father. He was curious about pandraukhinti, foreigners like yourself and I learned some of your tongue from him. Lord Saekoris encouraged it so I studied it when I was serving him. I guess I am part of your guard now, so I am at your command." "What are your feelings toward me and this situation? More importantly, can I trust that you are loyal to me?" The warrior staggered to his feet causing his wooden chair to screech along the floor. "Bwet ley, kae vsu bwosarotes althirse, khadordosotes fauhse. I serve you with all of my honor." When he was done, he nodded in self satisfaction and sat back down. Though he was growing tired of having to ask, he felt it was better to do so and know than to remain in ignorance. "What did you say at first?" This time, it was Lamastus who answered, "He pledged himself to you saying what can be translated as 'bowing before, standing behind.' I have heard that pledge before from those who live in Dunhavo and West Angrava, just not in Kruish." When Syler arched an brow toward his friend questioningly, he explained. "We managed to come upon a small group of Kruish warriors who were fleeing Subeleth. They surrendered to us and, between one of our Kutii captives and one of the warriors who knew a little of the Common Tongue, we managed to communicate. They pledged themselves to the Way and Angvard in exchange for their freedom. That is one of the things they all said when swearing their oaths." "No true man of the People would ever abandon Subeleth," Delmonor protested. "Maybe not," Lamastus admitted, "but that doesn't change the fact that those men did. Maybe they lost one of the wars you just mentioned and had to flee for their lives." Delmonor crossed his arms across this barrel chest and said dourly, "Then they are not Krue, but are now lesser men." "Lesser like me?" asked Syler caustically. "Am I a lesser man for not being born a Krue or following your ways?" The warriors eyes widened and he quickly stammered, "Dalmabwes, bwet ley, I meant no offense. Forgive my outburst, it was gakrellea of me." "Do your people truly think that other races are lesser?" prodded Syler. He recalled Lord Yaegran's opposition to his taking over as a foreigner and was curious exactly how far that xenophobia extended. "Yes, many do," admitted Delmonor. "My osraph did not believe so, but he was mocked for it. I made myself a strong warrior to escape such mockery and was gladdened to be accepted into the inthaley's service." "And you?" With a gulp, he said, "I try to see men for what they do. There are strong men and weak men among all races. You are a strong man, the strongest I have ever seen." Syler accepted that with a single nod. It was probably the best he was going to get from him tonight. As long as he followed orders and treated his friends with respect, he didn't much care if the warrior thought his people were better than others. In some aspects, they were, but the Krue still had a lot that he thought needed correcting. He turned his attention to Growald and asked him, "What are your plans?" He gave one of his characteristic shrugs and replied, "I mean to stay and watch you to make sure you don't get into trouble. After all, I am your Guardian, so I figure I might as well as guard you." "Oh joy," Syler murmured mirthlessly. "I suppose you could be of use since I think I can trust you and your men not to try to take my authority. That might prove useful if things get dangerous." "Those men aren't loyal to you," Growald pointed out. "They are loyal to the Seinari and to the Kingdom. Some may be interested in helping you out, but they aren't like me. If you don't give them a reason to believe that you will help their cause, then they will leave at the first moment." "If they leave without my permission, they will get themselves killed," said Syler. "Yes, which is why they haven't left yet. They didn't intend on coming here, but we didn't much have a choice what with being surrounded by Krue. I suggest you weed out the ones who have no interest in you and send them off tomorrow with Lamastus." "That sounds like so much fun," moaned the Angvardi. "Don't worry," replied Syler. "I will send a few warriors to keep them in line." Lamastus didn't seem convinced, "Just make sure the warriors aren't going to let them slit my throat when I sleep." "I think ya can survive," Growald said sardonically. "Just use your fancy tongue to weasel yourself out of everything." "Don't worry, I will make sure they know of the situation," Syler interjected reassuringly before Lamastus could return the insult. He frowned and noticed someone had been rather quiet. "Tald, what about you?" The farmhand turned soldier looked uncomfortable in the center of attention, but he didn't shrink away. "I joined with the lieutenant here to help fight off the Angvardi and free our home. I wasn't never a soldier before, just a conscript like you and Havert. Looking around, I see a lot of potential here to help a lot. I ain't got any family nor much tying me down back in Sei, so I suppose I could stay here with you if you would have me." When Growald didn't object, Syler nodded. "I would be honored to have you. You were always kind to us and even when the others weren't and I respect that. Stay with me and I will make sure you are put to good use helping people. That doesn't mean that we are going to abandon our homeland. I have no love for the Angvardi or the Terulans, not after what they did to our king and us personally. Mark my words, if I have any say in it, we will throw them back into the East and leave them to rot there." Lamastus shifted uncomfortably at that, but he kept his mouth shut. Growald and Havert seemed pleased, as did the women. Tald himself nodded with a small smile gracing his lips. "That sounds very good, my lord." Syler lifted a finger, "One thing, don't call me 'my lord' or 'lord' or any of that nonsense. We are countrymen and that means you call me Syler. If you really have to be formal, call me 'Mr. Penion' as that is my name." "I can do that, sir," answered Tald with a look of caution. When Syler only rolled his eyes without correcting him, he relaxed a little. They had a casual conversation for the next half hour, but by then even Delmonor had managed to eat and drink his fill and was beginning to look uncomfortable. Syler stood up and winced as the pain in his leg returned with a vengeance. He quickly regained control of himself and said, "I think it is time to retire. My leg needs tending to and some of you will be traveling tomorrow so you need to get some rest." There were a few groans of relief, mainly from Delmonor and Lamastus who both were beginning to get antsy. The guests beat a hasty retreat with servants who showed them to their rooms. That left only Syler and Bronwyn in the feast hall, though they weren't alone for long. "Bwet ley, is there anything I may do for you?" Torrvel asked. Syler didn't immediately respond because he was busy trying not to pass out. Standing up had been a bad idea entirely. He had been mostly okay while sitting down, but once he rose, the blood rushed down and his calf was throbbing once more. Seeing the pain in his eyes, Bronwyn responded for him, "We wish to retire to our chambers. Please make sure that there are fresh bandages and poultices sent as quickly as possible." Torrvel gave Syler one glance and bowed before rushing off to relay orders. A servant who had been waiting at the door helped Bronwyn get Syler to an entirely massive room that was to be their quarters. The room itself was larger than their entire house in Kubei had been and was far more ornate and richly furnished than anything Syler had been in before. If the guest room they spent last night in had been opulent, this was profanely excessive in its finery. Whether it was done by orders from him or after he had died, all of the personal things that Syler expected Lord Saekoris to have were not present. While the room was completely furnished, it was full of things that were new, unused, and had no personal wear on them. He didn't know why, but that saddened him a little. Syler leaned him back on a small leather couch and propped his leg up on a footstool. Gently, Bronwyn removed his boot and tore off his pants up to the mid-thigh. Even if he had managed to wash up a little before supper, he was still filthy from the two fights he had been in. With loving care, she removed the bloody bandages and started cleaning his leg and wound. Every time he hissed in pain, she winced with him, but she was resolved to continue her work. "You know," she said, after a few minutes of work, "it was a lot easier last time. At least then, you didn't have any actual wounds." Syler smiled at the memory of her cleaning him after his first fight with Growald. He had been slightly embarrassed at the time, but the incident had brought them close. It was the first time he realized that she saw him as more than just an intruder, but as a partner. She smiled down at him and he saw her perfect white teeth. "At least the stitches held." "Yes, we can be grateful for that." There was a polite knock at the door. When Bronwyn answered it, Torrvel was there with a basket full of fresh bandages and several poultices wrapped in thin cloth pouches that could be easily spread over the wound. "Kaeboutua," she said in gratitude as she took the basket. "Does bwet leya require assistance?" the saledaur asked hesitantly. "Fao, we will be fine without you," she responded before closing the door. After all that had happened today and all the people fluttering around offering help or leading them places, she wanted her husband to herself tonight. "Did you know there is a full bath here?" Syler said when she returned to him. He pointed to the opposite side of the room from the door and added, "I think it even has one of those running fountains in it." Bronwyn placed her hands on her hips and said mockingly, "You mean to say that you don't want me to give you another sponge bath?" Syler frowned at the quip. He would normally have been more than willing to play her game, but today's events and the pain from his calf left him in no mood for a repeat of this morning. "Not tonight," he said sullenly. At the disappointment in his wife's eyes, he reached up and pulled her down into a kiss. When they broke it, he whispered to her, "I am sorry, but I just want to get this bandage changed and go to sleep." She went back to tending his leg and said, "I understand. I have never killed anyone before, so I can't begin to imagine how it feels." "It isn't so much that," said Syler. "It is why I have to kill. Yes, I regret killing Lord Saekoris. There was so much that I could have learned from him and he had done nothing to harm us. I had no qualms about killing the Shalktra or the priests in the Temple. They all deserved what they got. I don't even mind killing Lord Yaegran. He didn't leave me too much of a choice and was a bastard anyway." He winced as she applied a fresh poultice onto the wound, but that didn't stop him from continuing. "What I regret is being manipulated into the situation in the first place. The Shalktra took you because of prophecy and their desire to get to me, so I had to go and kill them to free you. The Elements force me to do their bidding in order to gain your life back. Then the Krue take me and force me to fight a man who had done me no wrong because of prophecy. That in turn places me into a position where I think a lot of people are going to get killed in opposing me because of some very valid reasons. I am an outsider, a foreigner, and now because of prophecy, their old and respected lord sacrificed himself to put me into power. "Why? Why is all of this happening? Because of prophecy. Because some old men with grey hair scratched some words on parchment and called it the future. Maybe it was one of the Immortals that actually sent it, but that makes it no better. I am just a pawn to the Immortals just as I am a prize to the Angvardi and the Terulans and the Krue. Even Growald had ulterior motives when dealing with me. I am tired of being a mere pawn or a prize, forced to go whichever way others want me to. I haven't been free since before the Angvardi invaded and I am high tired of playing the games of others." Bronwyn was silent for a time as she finished wrapping up his leg. When she spoke, her voice was strained, "I did not know you had to trade your freedom to save me." Syler let out a deep breath and said soothingly, "It was a sacrifice I was willing to make because living without you or Karusa is not life. I made the deal to save your life in exchange for the Elements not harming my friends or interfering in my attempts to get my sister. My part of the bargain was that I was to accept their handpicked destiny for my life. It was a tradeoff I felt was fair, even if it means I must play their game." "You shouldn't have done that for me." "There are a lot of things I shouldn't have done, but that was not one of them. One way or another, I will make them regret forcing me to do their bidding. They think they have a pliable, ignorant blacksmith to use, but they will find that my patience with all of them goes only so far." There was a hardness in Syler's eyes as he spoke. Without noticing it, he had clenched his hands into fists and was tensing up. "Once I have my sister and my friends are safe, everyone will start playing a new game: my game. I don't think that it is a game they will be expecting and, for anyone who crosses me, I do not expect they will like it much."

Yes, well, as this was essentially a first draft kinda thing, there were bound to be errors. I am glad you caught them. They have been fixed. The whole beard thing has been mentioned several times and for a reason. There is a purpose to me constantly reminding the readers that all men there have beards and I believe I will get to it in this next chapter.