An Age of Crimson Crowns:Book I:Rising Winds:Part II

*Marwen*

He slept in the Elkhorn Tavern after the council. All the night he would wonder if the owner would march up the stairs and whack him in the head with a broom. The owner was man named Honnar. He was as big as an elk and beefy too.  

 He woke to see Samantha shake his hand. Startled, he cocked his head back and wrenched from his covers. “Relax, it’s just me silly.” She giggled. Still, Marwen sprung from his bed in a frenzy, trying to straighten the covers but wrinkling them all the same. Samantha took his hand to calm him down. “You shouldn’t be here my lady.” Marwen said, his brow furrowed as he stood confused. 

“I’m not a lady and I came to say goodbye.” Samantha removed her necklace and placed it on Marwen’s palm. “I’ve read stories about Crown’s Harbor.” 

“So have I.” Marwen was not too excited. When he was little he did imagined himself sitting on the Crimson Throne towering above his aunt and cousins but when he heard about the things Lord Edward said about the city the idea rotted like a dying weed. 

“That city was made of blood.” Lord Edward told him. “What’s made of blood will have a way of keeping its crimson shade.” 

She threw a bag on the bed, opened it. in it was a large book. “The Tales and Legends of the Known Realm by Archscholar Tomas Harwin.” She pounced atop the bed and flipped through the pages. She then stopped on page four hundred and forty-four. 

“You see this city with large towers made of gold. This is the city of Zyraddon.” Samantha showed him. “The city of Five Kings and a thousand towers, they called it. Anyone who sought to lay siege to it had to walk sixty miles to get there. The city stretched forty miles so it would take them quite a while to get to any of the palaces. It is said that it collapsed and flooded because the Four Kings had betrayed the First King.” 

“Here, take it Marwen.” She pleaded. He took it, cracked open the chest and stuffed it in there. Samantha leapt and hugged him. He’ll miss that. The way she hugged him and how it warmed his heart and the kiss she gave him on his cheek. He loved her and Justin as if they were his own. If anything were to happen to them...he’d, he’d go mad. They reminded him so much of his own little brother and sister. Every time he would dream, he would not see the faces of his own brother and sister. Instead he replaced them with the faces of Justin and Samantha. He also remembered being in tears when he first held them. Samantha’s eyes then watered with tears as she hugged tighter. She did not want to pull away but Marwen pried her off regardless only to see her tears. 

“Hey, hey. Look at me.” He told her. With his hands grabbing her arms. “Look at me.” Marwen grimaced. “I’ll come back, do you understand. I’ll come back, along with your father, along with Torren and Tobyn. I’ll be fine.” That only made her cry harder. 

“You don’t…know. You don’t know that.” She said, already in despair. Her eyes blazed red. She sobbed as she spoke. She was right, he didn’t know and she was wise enough to see that. “Do you really think that you’ll come back alive? Do you really believe that?” Marwen’s bowed his head in conflict. He did not know how to answer that question. The Royal Court was as steep as a mountain top. Slip on one rock and an abyss is waiting to catch you in its arms and swallow you whole. Lord Edward told him that many times. He even told him during the council meeting they had the other night.  

She ran off and left the Tavern before he could utter a word. A queer feeling of relief struck Marwen. At least I didn’t have to promise. That, he did not. Promises like that are often made by men who leave their loved ones and are broken all the same. Marwen could not bear the thought of breaking such a promise. 

His thoughts had shifted elsewhere like a tide upon the moon’s grace. Crown’s Harbor was going to be a warm place. Mostly what he had were long sleeved leather cuirasses and wolf fur cloaks, only to prepare for the cold. They were folded and placed into a chest. 

 The wooden surface is swarthy, made from black spruce planks with a golden lock dangling from a small circle-shaped chain. Marwen stuck the key in the lock, twisted it and locked it. Carrying the chest was quite a challenge. Marwen was a slender boy not as muscled like Torren. He walked down the staircase. The chest bumped and thudded against each step of the stairs that it descended.  

He went to the stables, still carrying the cumbersome chest with both hands. Pain rose to his upper shoulder. It built up and stopped to talk two stable boys into opening wooden gates for one of the horses. One of the stable boys held the lead and brought one horse out. Its coat and mane were seal brown. He handed Marwen the saddle and Marwen threw it on the horse’s back. The strings were fixed by the stable boy. Marwen bound the chain to the saddle and lead the horse ‘til he got to the front gate. 

Marwen bound the lead to a nearby pole and left the horse there. He climbed the steps to the left of the wall. When he reached the top of the stony stairs, he was left of a tower where a column of soldiers marched past him. His uncle was nowhere to be found. An hour was what he had before Lord Richard’s arrival. This could be the last time he sees this place. The last time he could feel the cold winds touch his cheek, or the last time he could hug Samantha and Justin and play with them in the Windwood Forest. He could give two shits about aunt Wagna, his cousins Darryl and Kyle but he had to see his uncle Stellyn. 

“Marwen.” A shout was heard up at the Tower to his right. He went in the tower, took a torch and marched up the wood and stone stairs. Most of the towers had stone foundations under the stairs but this one had wooden planks. The stairs funneled upwards. He opened the false ceiling and his uncle extended his hand towards Marwen. He saw Marwen coming, obviously. Marwen took his arm and Stellyn pulled him up to embrace him with a hug. “Uncle.” He said, happy to see him. 

“Come here my boy.” He told him. They moved up to the crenels and look down at the Windwood Forest. He saw how vast it was. They even saw the Whitewind River from afar. It was only three miles from where they stood. Stellyn’s hand twitched again. “I was right here when it happened.” 

Marwen wondered what he was talking about. “When what happened uncle?” Marwen asked. 

“The Battle of Windreach.” Stellyn answered, with a grimaced. “Sur Harrstan and twelve thousand men stood outside of these gates. Lord Edward sent me and three thousand men with me to try a sabotage on their supplies. Getting an arrow through my hand was the least of my problems. I saw three men die right in front of me that day and I couldn’t do anything to stop that from happening. I pray Marwen, and I mean that I pray that you do not have to see that same thing happen to you.” 

“I hope it won’t either.” Marwen replied. “Uncle, please take care of Samantha and Justin and Lady Bethany. They mean the world to me.” 

His uncle laughed and said “Am I not the castellan? You just focus on protecting Lord Edward my nephew.” 

“Am I not a squire, sworn to serve the Branch of Greywind?” they both howled in laughter together. Patting themselves on the stomach. They did that until the bells rang. Marwen looked down the crenels of the tower and saw a column of men at the gates. Their banners were a black bull on a yellow field, and a grey sabertooth tiger. “March to the gate.” A soldier sounded out from the third tower. A grey battalion of men marched down the steps of the battlements and lined up facing the gates. Marwen and Stellyn, opened the trap door and walked down the stone, funneling steps of the tower. When he left the tower he followed the men down the battlements and stood by Lord Edward. 

The gate opened. 

*Edward*

The portcullis was lifted and the gate was opened. Armored men in surcoats galloped through the gates with spears in their hands. They spread their ranks and made way for a man who was as big as the bull on his coat. His chest wide as a barrel, he had a mop of dark-brown hair and a thick, circled belly. 

He wore a bear fur coat over his broad shoulders and a black and brown doublet. A bush of a beard shrouded his chubby jaw. Horses neighed shaking their heads. Their breath venting through their teeth showed grey as stone as it floated in the air. The big bearded man dismounted his steed and gave the lead to one of his soldiers. Edward, Marwen, Torren, Tobyn Beth, Samantha, Justin and his whole army knelt before him. He wasn’t the King but they knelt as custom to pay homage to a noble guest. He walked to Edward. “It has been long hasn’t it my old friend.” His voice was rough and rowdy.  

“It has been, Lord Richard.” Edward said. Richard hugged and squeezed him with those thick, meaty arms of his. “Beth,” He called out to her as she squeezed her two. A wince was heard from Bethany. Bones made of glass he thought of Bethany. She always had pains in her body. The Scholar says that she slept too much. This may be the first time in a whole twenty years that she’s rose and saw the outside of the bastion.  

“Come, Edward, let’s break us a fast.” He patted him on the back and wrapped his arm around him. “My damned legs hurt from a week of riding on this wretched horse.” The horse seemed to neigh in reply. They went into the bastion and sat at the table. 

Lord Edward snapped his fingers, two of his servants went off to alert the cooks and butchers of Lord Richard’s presence. “It’s a godsend to see you after so many years.” He cheered on. “At a time when we’re not hacking each other to pieces and whole realm isn’t burning.” Edward and Bethany drunk a tankard of wine, agreeing with him “Oh aye,” He said. Minutes turned into hours Edward knew how the man could smell food from a mile away. Back during his rebellion he was known to have an appetite to battle the gods themselves. Or so the men used to say under their cups. 

“When is the damn food going to be here? I’m starving.” He cursed and laughed. The man laughed at almost everything. Five minutes the food was here. A roasted pig it was, with sliced potatoes circling it, lettuce lying flat under its opened belly and diced eggplants. “Now we live, old and feeble, living in peace. Your sons have grown big and our daughters grew their first tits.” Edward laughed at that. Bethany knew he meant well but still took that to offense. Edward touched her hand. Richard was blunt man, muscled and tall with monstrous battle axe at his side that he used during the war twenty years ago. “The feelings mutual old friend, has life been good to you in court?” 

“I’d have half a mind to answer that question.” He answered. “King Darreon has given me his royal apartments within the city. I try to stay away from the court for as long as I can but my wife Mya tells me otherwise.” 

“How’s she treating you?” 

“Well, the gods could not have given me a finer woman. I would stare at her everyday just to escape court. Anytime the king asks for me to attend court that leech of a nephew of his, Prince Aereon comes to escort me. I tell you this Ed, that boy’s stare is like that of a wolf stalking deer.” 

“Did you hear of King Darreon’s death, my lord?” 

“I did and I toast to it, less firespawn to plague the world.” He said, bluntly. “What that man’s father did to my father, the man who tried to plead with King Paegeus to demand justice for his son’s crimes along with your father and the bannermen who served him, what he did to your wife’s sister…what he did to the realm. I would gladly welcome the day when they all burn and when that day does come, I will be the crow the feasts on their morsels.” He stabbed a fork in the pig’s gut. 

Edward gave a light frown. “You think that you sitting on the throne is going to change anything. Are you really that foolhardy to think that your rule would undo anything that happened in the past?” 

“It would be a start. My family has ruled this realm four thousand years before the Lychesters and the Dargonyan scum came to take it from us.” 

“You see that throne, Lord Richard.” Lady Bethany asked. “My husband would’ve been king if your ancestors hadn’t come along to take that away from him. You don’t see him thinking of eating your charred corpse. His ancestors are not free from guilt either. What they did to the Sundered was just as much a crime as what your ancestors did to his and King Darreon’s ancestors have done to all of us. All kingdoms that were ever built, all the crowns that were ever donned started with a shade of crimson.” 

“Apologies my lady, I have my passions.” 

“You are long forgiven my lord. If I may excuse myself.” She then hugged him before leaving the breakfast.  

“You want to know why I’m here, Fine. I want to share the road together and with a friend that I trust.” He said, yearning. “We fought together, good men died for us. We deserved better than what we have gotten. Will you come with me old friend, for old time’s sake?” 

Edward then rose, clashed each other’s hand and hugged each other. 

*Torren*

The sound of cracking wood echoed through the castle.

“Come on then.” Tobyn urged him, coming at him with a wooden sword. Torren stood ready. His sword raised, parrying two of Tobyn’s coming blows.

 Crack, crack, crack, the wooden swords sounded again. Torren held a hanging right stance where his elbow bent and his sword was pointed. Swift as wind, Tobyn moved up on him and lifted his sword from the side. Torren’s hanging right turned to a sing at Tobyn’s neck. Unfortunately it was blocked and Tobyn smacked the pommel to Torren’s eye. Torren reeled backwards, hitting the sodden earth. “You’re know i'm much quicker than you brother.” Tobyn jested before he brought his sword down on Torren. Torren lifted his own sword and Tobyn’s clashed against its guard.  

Torren pulled a quick one by springing his leg out and kicking Tobyn in the stomach. Tobyn fell back and hit the ground just as Torren did. Now Torren had him where he wanted as always. Anytime he and Tobyn had these little contests he would win. He lurched for his sword, took it, stood up and stole away Tobyn’s sword as well, disarming him. 

Standing over him, Torren pointed the sword at his brow. “Fuck me, again.” They laughed at each other. Torren extended his hand. Tobyn staggered himself upwards. Their clothes were tattered and muddied. If their mother were to see them like this she would give them what for. Maybe they could have the chamber maids clean it for them but that could take an hour or two at the most. 

 They turned to go back to the Keep. “Torren, Tobyn.” A woman called their names. They turned their heads and saw a slender woman with a fair-lovely face, brown eyes and hair. “Ellena.” They said in unison. She lifted inches of her skirt of her green velvet and gold brocade dress to walk across the sodden earth. Her mother Mya was there as well, she looked almost like Ellena but inches taller. Torren and Tobyn both bowed and she curtsied. 

The emeralds on her neck brace glimmered in Torren’s eyes. He came to hug her and smelled the lavender oil on her skin. They walked to the keep past the grey hall and into the funneling staircase. He held the key in his hand and unlocked the room. It was as shaggy as any home in the Northlands. 

They both sat on the bed. Torren’s lips embraced her cheeks. Her cheeks blushed red in return. He wanted to give her another and another one after that but she denied Torren. Torren’s head bent down in disappointment. “I can’t Torren. It’s good to see you but I can’t after… 

“It was years ago Ellena, it won’t happen again.” Said Torren

“You two are brothers and you’re close to each other. I won’t have you two kill each other over me.”  

“Will you share my bed, my lady?” Torren asked, desperately.

 “I would.” She said. “But if my father sees me in bed with you he’ll beat you bloody. He’s arraigned for me to marry Prince Rhaeus.” 

“He’s like halfway across the damned sea, in the far east. Is he arriving by ship to Snowharbor?” 

“He has to gain the trust of the King in Bazavhar.” She explained. “Marrying his sons is something that needs to be done.” 

“So he's marrying someone else while marrying you?” Torren was aghast. “Is that something that you want?” 

She scoffed at the words. It was a stupid question. Not a lot of people have the King’s trust. Richard Canntheron among them. “I don’t think that matters. You’ll understand that whenever you become a Lord.” 

That made him angry. His lips had tightened and both of his fist slammed on the wooden bed poles. The slam was hard enough to crack opened on the poles. “Fuck being a lord. I don’t have need to become one.”

“Why were you born then? What purpose do you serve other than drinking, hunting and whoring with your brother.” Torren’s jaw tightened. He leapt off of the bed, frustrated. “Who will lead the men of the Northlands if not you? Your mother, your brother and sister. What our fathers and forefathers have will be ours to live in. if we want to rule it things will have to be done. Things that no one will want to do.” Torren grew only angrier. Although he is the first son. His legacy is one of the very foundations that keep Windreach from being a pile of rubble. 

“I’ll sleep in the upper Keep tonight.” She kissed him and left the room. 

That kiss only stirred a longing for her touch even more. Being a lord was something to do in the future whenever his father died or was abducted. Torren doesn’t see that happening anytime soon. “i'm going with you, and father, and Tobyn and Marwen to Crown's Harbor.”

“You should stay with your mother Torren, they'll be helpless without you”

Torren grimaced at her, same as his father. “I made a choice, Ellena.” 

“And you'll regret it.” She replied before taking her leave. “

On the morrow, they were set to march on Crown’s March with his father, Lord Richard, his son Arthur. His brother Tobyn as well along with Marwen and Ellena. Although he felt he would not feel like talking to her anytime soon. He slept through the night after drinking a tankard of Orange Elm mead. Morning came all too soon for him. He woke, packed everything he would need for the trip, for it would be quite a long one. 

He saddled on his horse beside his brother and nine thousand men and rode forth.

*Bethany*

 Horses were galloping onwards. Their hooves pounding the wet earth and footprints pointing to the gate. Banners of a black bull on a yellow field and a grey sabertooth tiger with teeth like swords and barred on a white field flapped in the wind. Bethany’s eyes were fixed on only one horse, her husband’s. 

She stared and stared hoping for him to look back but that was something it seemed he could not do. Upon that she sighed, bitterly. Her head went down, her thoughts fretting of whether he will come back again. She received no answer and the portcullis shut after the last horse passed through. Pride came over her. If he could not look back then I can’t either. She scoured her way through the courtyard. The guards at the Keep then opened the gate. 

Stellyn, along with Sur Ryland and Sur Harrstan stood hunched over a map labeling each points of the castle that might be defending. Lord Edward took eight thousand men with him. That left Windreach with only ten thousand men.  It may be enough to defend these walls, along with the vast forest that surrounds this castle. Men would get lost or go mad in those forest. You could ambush them from any angle if you knew the woods well. From up the walls you could rain down arrows without your enemies knowing. 

All three of them turned their heads and said “My, lady.” They were caught unaware. She glided up the steps. “Where are my children?” she asked. Stellyn told her that he did not know. Same with Sur Harrstan and Sur Ryland. That served to irritate her. She had a good and plain idea where they were. Now, Justin is Lord-Regent of Windreach and he can’t be that while frolicking in the woods like a fawn. 

“Stellyn, come with me, where is the scholar, I’m sure you could find him. He’s not small nor can he climb a tree.” She rubbed it in. 

“He’s in the library, my lady. Squandering for books and scrolls like any other in his profession.” 

“Good I’ll need him and those scrolls to look at as well.” She marched up the steps through her children’s room and passed her and Edward’s room as well. Her hands extended pushing the door on a wooden bridge with a roof sheltering it. A tower lied ahead it built to the walls and neighboring the battlements. The wooden foundation creaked at every step forward that she took. Knock, knock, knock, the door sounded as Stellyn’s fist clashed with it three times. “Scholar Melvin.” She called out searching for him in a room as old and dark as the Bastion. Cobwebs floated from the stone ceilings. Some thick threads of it fell gently on Bethany’s shoulder. It tickled her a bit before she brushed it off. “Lady Bethany.’ An old man’s voice sounded like a ghost. If he were such a being it would appeal to the ancient feel of the castle. 

“Apologies My Lady, damned scrolls keep falling from the shelves.” He lurched over to pick up a fallen scroll, fumbling to keep it to his grasp. “I had given my apprentice this assignment, yet it seems incompetence gleams on the youth at most times.” His coughs echoed the dark stone tower room. The shelves stood tree-tall and touched the ceiling. Every one of them were moldy and covered with a nest of cobwebs. Dust floated adrift in the air and spirited from shelf to shelf. 

Her back wreathed with pain. Her thighs as well from trotting all through the castle for days. Council meetings, Lord Richard visiting, eating their food and snatching her husband away from her, for what? Just so he can “Travel the road with him.” Once more her children are lurking through that dreaded forest again. They ought to have been locked up in their rooms, especially after what just happened to Justin. Now, she would have to prowl through there herself to carry them back here. Tiredness grew upon her like a weed just thinking of it.  

“I need the Sale Parchments for Lord Richard’s visit, now.” She said in haste, wincing as the pain shot to her shoulder. Please tell me you have it, I hope not to waste more of our gold reserves on a ship to the House of Scrolls. She thought as her patience was wearing thin an account of the pain she was feeling on her thighs. Her husband always said that if she were to sit anywhere after standing for too long it would hard for the strongest man to move her. She remembered Stellyn laughing at the jest years ago. “How’s your pain lady Bethany. While I’m troubling myself stumbling as an oaf I could get you a remedy for it.” That, might help her quite a lot supposedly. “Just the scrolls, would be necessary. “She pressed on. Even the mention of a quick remedy was soothing to her. No doubt her lord husband had to raid some cupboards here-and-there to gather enough medicine and herbs to nurse their wounded on the journey if it comes to that. 

“Come here, my lady. Come here.” He gestured his hand, luring them towards him. He glided swift but softly to the third aisle, his sleeves opened like the mouth of a crag bass. He made that sort of queer laugh he’d make sometimes. Which seemed to not only to annoy Bethany but put her on-edge as well. The Scholar then went left and seemed to fade like a shadow. Despite his age the man is fast as cat. If it were that Windreach was under siege he would be able sneak her and the children into the deep, secret sewers and tunnels. The entrance door creaked open. Startled, she clocked ‘round her head to see. “Hah, there you are boy,” he called to his apprentice. “late again I see.”

“Sorry, sur”

 See my lady, incompetence.” 

Suddenly, he swatted her arms away and reached for a good tome. A tome it was and it practically frightened Bethany. She read books when she was little but did not prefer the more violent histories of the Known Realm. When she opened she had to take a moment to cough in a fit because of all of the dust that came blowing out of it. It was all the old accountings of all the other past lords and kings of Windreach. “Here’s one from King Oddard Windheart IV.” Stellyn pointed out. Stellyn was never a man for books. Those men at the battlements, parapets and towers needed him more than the scholar did

Embrace, embrace. Her eyes flickered fittingly. Her fingers twitched and stiffened. The voice crawled in her ear like a worm. A glimpse of a vision came upon her. She saw the forest and the trees. The eyes and mouth of the trees opened and dilated. Her eyes closed once more. She could not recall tumbling to the floor. Lucky for her she landed on Stellyn’s arms. “Scholar Melvin, what do you know about the forest?” 

“Only that the forest is more ancient than the castle itself.” He answered, seemingly reluctant to speak more on the matter. “is this pertaining to the woods witch, mi'lady.” 

“She spoke to me,”

“when, mi'lady. She wasn't in the ro…

Room, I know. I heard her voice in my head.” 

“and what did she say?”

Reluctance held her tongue like a drawbridge under seige. She knew they would think she was mad and that was last thing she needed. She's already a woman with only two of her youngest children and no Torren to rule Windreach. “that...that my husband and all...all who follow him will meet a terrible fate.”

“And what faith is that?” 

“i cannot say,...something about a crimson fate.” she recalled, as best as she could. “Are there any legends concerning the Windwood forest?” 

“There are?” Said Stellyn. “It’s a history long forgotten. It is said that Those-born-of-Sundered-stars used the entire forest to fight off the Prime men over a thousand years ago. For thousands men went missing in that forest. King Hychard Windhearth had half of the forest cut down to shorten it. It was said that the forest swallowed him whole as well.” 

“you could say he got lost in it” 

Scholar Melvin gave her a lengthy scroll with the castle map to see. She pondered at it. They left the Library and went to the Windwhisper Hall. They sat the map onto the table and read through it. 

“My nephew was right about the food reserves.” Said Stellyn. “We’ve mostly been getting in Cabbage, potatoes, pork and mutton. Our wheat farms haven’t been up and running since the gods plagued them with consumption.” “What of beef and venison?” Bethany asked.

 “Plenty of venison but little beef my lady. When I go in taverns in Windtown the hunters report that deer are migrating north. Mostly east for that matter. Lord Rodrich Argen may have a vast supply of it.” 

“Will that be enough?” she asked. 

Stellyn gulped his breath. His head faced down and dour. “For a month, or two” He answered, grimly. “In sieges, food supply will drop because we won’t be able to get any.” 

 “If worse comes to worse, I know exactly who can find us a way out.” She said, concluding the meeting. She then went outside the Windwood forest with Stellyn escorting her. Stellyn kept his guard up. She then touched a tree and her eyes then turned blue. She saw inside of the trees and the creaked and croaked. Then she looked into the squirrel and then the squirrel took her to Justin and then she saw herself inside of Justin jumping from tree to tree. She told him to come here. He jumped down and found Samantha and they both ran back to their mother and then Bethany exited out her visions. “My lady.” Stellyn stood aghast. Justin’s clothes were tattered with hints of dirt. Same with Samantha’s. “Ugh.” She grunted in frustration. She carried them away from the forest roughly and took them back to the castle. She then had them in the room. 

“Listen to me both of you. I need you two to stay in the castle at all times.” She told them. The children frowned. “I mean it. If I catch you out there again I’ll have this door locked and guarded, do you understand?” 

“Yes mother.” They answered in disappointment. She left the room and closed the door. It was a relief for her. She yearned for bed and rest unlike she ever has before. So she marched up the winding stairs to her room and did exactly so.when she did she awoke near a river. She could hear te river roar as the currents washed upon the shores and snags, eddying around its center. Every fish gulping  in the water, the wind blowing to the north and to the south and the leaves along with them. The trees creaked and croaked at every corner. 

 She then rustled herself and saw herself eating acorns. Looking up, she saw a large black bear with glowing blue eyes. Was it going to attack her? In fact all it did was stand there and tower over her. With a deep growl it turned it back on her and when she followed bright light shined in her face and she wakened. 

*Phaeus*

The sun had risen and so has Phaeus. He opened the door and Prince Aereon stood there along with another man. He was young as his daughter Princess Saenyra, brown hair and eyes and a fair face. His armor was steel plated with phoenix-wing pauldrons. 

“Father. “Aereon bowed. 

“My Prince. Sur Andrew” 

Sur Andrew bowed as well. “We gathered up the men like you asked Your Benevolence. Two thousand, ready to march at your command.” 

Phaeus rubbed his eyes. “Good, have them march by a moment’s notice.” 

“Other news as well.” Said Aereon. “Lord Greywind is now riding with Richard  through the Three Spears.”  

“Long time since they’ve been together.” Said Phaeus.

“The last time they were together they were rebelling against the king.” 

“And I remember killing that same King and preserving the dynasty.” Phaeus reminded him. “I trust you not to act as your brother and use this force to do something as foolish as charging them into battle. You don’t strike me as the fool Aereon.” 

“Shall I have Sur Andrew fetch a motley and a few bells to ease the imagination?” He grinned. 

“That smile on your face would be more pleasing to look at.” They both chuckled. Phaeus laid his hand on Aereon’s shoulder. “Go and find the men. Have them march at a moment’s notice.” 

“I live to serve.” Phaeus found that hard to believe, especially with that grin on his face. They parted ways and Phaeus called to summon his eldest son Prince Thaelor. Phaeus trusted Thaelor more than any of his other sons only because he excluded himself from the line of succession when he was fourteen. The armor he wore was a crimson as the throne itself with red leather straps to fasten the chest plate which had the wings of the Phoenix embroidered, stretching out and wreathing through from belly to collar.  It was the armor of the Honor guard, an order of knights sworn to serve the King, yet there was no king. Not yet. 

When he took his place as Prince-Commander of the Honor guard his brothers laughed at him that day. Phaeus did not know what to think. He felt a twitching sense of rage that day, he remembered it tingle and squirm inside out of him. But at the same time  felt a sense of relief as well. Most would see him standing next to the crimson throne as a statue. Thaelor was towering tall, scarred with markings he carved on his own face stretching from his eye sockets to his forehead. Ancient Avyrrian markings they were. 

 Each door had a shrubs at both sides of the doorway. Where chiseled columns were etched into the archway. “father” Thaelor spoke in Great Zyrraddyan. “”.” He greeted in reply to his son. 

Two guards stood at a gilded steel door. They opened it and made a great screeching sound. Hammers sung a song that echoed through the hall. Sparks flied and lied amongst the marble, mosaic floor. Sunlight reflected off the jewels molded on the marble as well. Sparks brazed off whetstones on every corner. Lord Varyon had told him after the last grand council meeting that the builders were from Essteron. They hail mostly from Sys and Lyr, Qovos, and Vatash in the Sealed Cities and they were said to be one of the best. One of the men of the crew said that his ancestors built the great Pyramids and temples of Veen, Ashathar, Xanqhai, Bazvadhar, and all of the other Yhistari cities before the Avyrrians betrayed them. Phaeus was thankful that the man didn’t give him a scornful look as Lord Richard would give if he were to drudge on and on about the past. 

Everything was being rebuilt and redecorated. All except for the throne which stood tall as the columns themselves, with the unfurled wings of a phoenix. Trepidation stirred in Phaeus as his eyes caught the throne. 

It was not of any difficulty for him to imagine himself sitting up there. Especially during the coronation where a thousand proud and noble families will gaze upon him. Their eyes peering like hawks with their claws clasped around the edge of the windows. Waiting for Phaeus, his sons or anyone in the Royal court to make a mistake. As his stare lingered, he glimpsed Darreon sitting on the throne instead of him. Phaeus stepped carefully, his hand extended trying to see if he was real. He knew it wasn’t but for some reason he had to be sure. When his hand got as closer Thaelor touched him by the shoulder. “Father.” A stern gaze of concern marked Prince Thaelor’s face. 

Phaeus sighed somberly. His feet climbed each step of the throne’s iron steps. Sitting on the throne made him feel colossal but that feeling took a fall when guilt and grief betrayed him. Did he really have to die to give me this? He wondered to himself. His fingers scratched at the metal arm handles of the throne. “Right now, the only question I have in my head is what happens next.” 

Thaelor shrugged his shoulders. “You rule. I serve. That is all.” Thaelor remained absolute. A smirk formed on Phaeus’s face. He let out a light chuckle. 

“No it’s not.” Phaeus disagreed. “I could say “Take care of the common folk and heed the advice of your loyal councilors but there’s obviously more to it than that. I always saw myself ruling vicariously through my brother. What I saw was proven to be false. I say this to you since you and your brothers will seat this throne.”  

“You will find a way and when you do I’ll be at your side.” Phaeus smiled a heart warmed smile. That is exactly what I said to Darreon. He thought but dared not say that.  

“I pray to the nine that you hold true to that. But listen carefully.” He told him. “There’s not a lot of people that a king can hold his trust in. whenever you change your mind and carry this mantle, know what weight it may bear.” 

“I will father.” He said in Great Zyrradyan.  “Suffer to stand, rise to fall. For we all must return to the dust.” he spoke of an ancient Avyrrian saying said across all of Essteron from the Sealed Cities to the end of the Sea of Tusks.  

From the chambers behind the throne came a column of the two thousand soldiers Phaeus had ordered Aereon to have. Aereon then emerged from the chambers and bowed at his father. The gates opened an they marched out. 

*Marwen*

Rain poured down, hard from the weeping clouds. It showered atop Marwen’s head. Winds from the west blew restless, surging across the leaves and branches of the black spruces. Droplets of the rain slid down and off Marwen’s leather cuirass and delved into the horse’s mane. The horse spurred as it shook the rain off sending fur and water flying in all direction. “Easy girl.” Marwen whispered to the Horse. 

The horse whickered in reply. Torren and lady Ellena sat apart from each other and torren did not look too happy “Funny.” Said Marwen to Tobyn. 

“What’s funny?” Tobyn was ambiguous. 

“I thought they’d be riding on the same horse holding each other after all these years apart.” 

“Marwen, I’m just going to say that Ellena’s a strange woman. She’ll deal with you if it suits her but in the end she’ll rip your heart out and beat you with it.” Tobyn took out a waterskin and drunk from it. The wine poured down his chin. “From what he told me her father plans to marry her to Prince Rhaeus.” 

“When, in two years? He’s all the way across the damned sea.”   

“That’s what he said to her.” Said Tobyn. “It is also said that he married women from other cities as well. I guess some men just can’t wait.” 

That made sense. Rhaeus was on the other side of the world while Ellena is here. In those lavish cities any man would have given into lust. From other sayings they say he has a manse in the cities of Vanzythar and Xaeth, and all the golden gryffons from the Bank of Talons.  When Marwen saw both Torren and Tobyn fighting over Ellena he thought to himself she wasn’t that pretty and was it really worth it. Alas, it was an old memory. Marwen knew best not to bring that up to either of them. 

“Duty calls Tobyn.” Marwen said. 

Tobyn chuckled at the answer and replied “Says the squire.” 

At the front of the party he could hear Richard’s boisterous laughter and see an opening center of the forest. Stone bricks sat mingled by the mortar that lined each brick in a jagged, uneven sort of way. Logs toppled the stone with a roof of thatch. Most of the logs were black, tall and gnarled a bit. Black spruces they were and quite thick enough to be such. 

Rain slid off the green edge of every leaf. The earth, sodden as small, muddy rivers streamed and carved their way to the hooves of the horses. Horses whinnied as their masters dismounted them. 

“Marwen, take my horse to the stables.” Lord Edward told him.  

“Yes my lord.” His hands bound themselves to both leads. Mud and rainwater began filling his boots. He could feel a duct building inside of the fabric of the leather. At the stables were stacked bales of hay. Some of the straws mingled with the mud. He wrapped the leads around the pole and a young man came in after him. “See your still kissing lordly ass.” He was comely young man, older than Torren with ink-black hair and greenish-yellow eyes wearing a leather cuirass with mailed sleeves. “Arthur.” Marwen called his name. 

They hugged each other as they greeted one another,  “How fares your precious Lord, marwen.” 

“Fine I guess.” His voice was shrunk. Somehow Arthur felt bigger than he was. In his life most people did, even little Samantha and Justin. But that mattered not to Marwen. Branch Greywind gave him more than his real family had ever given him and may give him much more. He owed his “precious” lord more than he could ever offer. Northern winds struck trees, leaves and trunks all the same. A bit of it blew back Marwen’s brown hair. Lifting his arm, he covered his eyes as rain came blowing with the wind. Straws of hay were moistened.  Whickering of horses grew louder but they stood calm and steady. Marwen remembered being a stable boy here. At this time of day the stable boys would be inside instead of out. Likely sweeping the floors for dust, dried-up mud and horse manure, and surprisingly stray straws of hay lying about. Dunley, the owner of the inn had him do most of the chores there and his wife Barba. The work they had him do reminded him much of what his dreaded, prune-skinned aunt would have him do, but surprisingly they were kind to him and payed him for the work as well. It wasn’t much but he was grateful. 

“Come on.” Waved Marwen to Arthur, urging him to come forward. Running and splashing mud in their wake they had their heads covered with sewn-leather hoods. 

When they returned no one was there. The door to the inn had shut. The sound of it echoed loud enough for them to hear it. In sodden earth they ran across with gathering and caking the bottom of their boots. Marwen took the knob, turned it and door creaked open. As courtesy, Marwen let Arthur enter before him. “I’m not a bloody woman.” He said, bluntly. Quickly, Arthur was encountered by Torren. Marwen giggled before creeping his way up the stairs whilst Arthur was in the midst of a conversation. 

Each step he took made a sound but not one person seemed to pay any heed to him. They should, the fools. For all they know he could be loading a crossbow ready to assassinate someone. But for noble men accompanied with over a thousand of their household guards about them, in their minds that seemed most unlikely. A door was straight up the stair. Hallway was but a small square platform with four other doors surrounding it. Marwen entered the door in front and went to bed.

In the morning The door busted open so hard some splinters chipped off of it. A man came through with dark, smoky hair, mutton chops and receding hair. Lord Edward had spoken of the man. Sur Rory Celwyn he was. He fought by Lord Edward’s side during the second Seabrynn Uprising. As reward he was anointed a knight by King Darreon. “Lord Edward has requested you.” His voice was deep and almost as intimidating as Sur Ryland’s.

“And where will I find them?” 

“Out in the forest. Hunting.” He answered. “I’m not your squire boy, now get moving.” 

*Edward*

An hour has passed since the rain had stopped. Drops of it were sliding down off of the leaves. One of the men shot a squirrel with an arrow but realized how far up the tree it was. “Bloody hell, waste of an arrow.” He cursed to himself. It was, and no one had the time or the patience to climb up and get it, especially since they have to guard the likes of Richard Canntheron. An arrogant man he was and fat too, unarmed and unarmored. 

The rest of the men were on their toes Edward had seven men at his side. Richard had four. Every man had his hand by the pommel of their swords. Watching and hearing for each sound that sung through the forest. Best to say that the chirping of birds won’t ease their worries anytime, all while Richard trotted about like it was any other day. The fool. He thought as he kept a close eye out for the fat lord. “Richard,” He called him, but he seemed not to hear him the first time. “Richard.” The second he did hear him and turned his head. 

“What is it?” 

“You should have a sword on you my lord.” Edward told him. “You can’t just walk through a place like this like nothing’s going to happen.” 

“You’re right, Edd, something is going to happen. I’m going to catch me a deer or a boar and stick a spear in its guts. And then we have our dinner.” 

“That amongst other things.” 

“For god’s sake, Edd. Why should I have to worry.” He said lazily. “I got men to do that for me.” 

“Men die my lord.” His eyes twitched and his jaw stiffened. 

“Not on my watch.” 

“Then take a sword since they’re on your watch.” 

Richard stomped over at him, splashing the puddles and caking muds on his boots with a bit down lip growing with annoyance. “you want me to take a sword, fine, I’ll take yours. It looks pretty enough and fit for any lord.” 

“Fine, its name is Wind” and it’s been in my family for thousands of years.” He unsheathed it and faced the pommel to his hand. Richard gazed in reverence of the fuller of the blade. The light from the rising sun made it shimmer and the rain slickened it yet could cause a man’s fingers to slide to the edge where the sword could scrape of the skin. Most blacksmiths told him that it was Avyrrian steel given to him by Darreon the Conqueror yet his father Lord Berathald told him that this sword traces back thousands of years earlier. 

“Pray tell, friend how long have you been in that castle?” Lord Richard asked him. Before Edward could answer him the bushes rustled up ahead. Swords were ripped from their scabbards and all stood ready for anything,  a battle cry, the whispering of an arrow, a mere fight, a battle or whatever the gods may curse them with on the road. In lieu of a band of warriors charging to attack was but the simple squire Marwen who was summoned here in the first place with Sur Rory Celwyn. Marwen stood startled by the pikes and swords being pointed at them while Sur Rory Celwyn sighed at the foolish reactions of the common soldier. “Marwen.” Edward hugged him. “My boy, do you have your weapons on you.” He did unlike Lord Richard. He showed his longsword he had in his shield, branded with runes of the Prime folk. “Good lad.” Edward thanked him, for he needs Marwen just as much as needed his guards. Rory Celwyn was the captain-of-the-guard now and if he died Edward planned to have Marwen replace him in that position. Although Marwen did not look the leading type, he needed someone he could trust. Best not to tell him that, for those who serve for too long have a certain hunger for a slice of power. 

“You’re lucky one of us don’t have arrows, boy.” Richard laughed. “You would’ve had one right through those doe eyes of yours.”  

Marwen’s face was shrouded with ambiguity. “Marwen,” He gestured at Marwen, telling him to approach. 

“Don’t mind him. Fat old fool, “Said Edward. “Hunting out in this forest with four men and no sword.” 

“But he was with you at the Battle of the First Spear?” Asked the squire. 

“Indeed he was. I guess I would’ve been dead if he weren’t the same fat fool he was twenty five years ago. They used to call him the horned butcher.” 

“Didn’t make much difference for my father, I guess.” He pointed out, morbidly.  His face drooping down when he said that. The breath of his sigh spirited away by the western winds. His lips arched downside up reaching to his chin and lines etched onto his brow, furrowing it.

 “Marwen,” he lifted Marwen’s head up, “Look at me.” He gave Marwen a stiff look, staring straight into his eyes, never relenting one glance. Marwen’s eyes widened as a lost child searching inside of Edward’s eyes as thought he was asking why it had to happen. Edward wanted to turn away for the guilt was building up a castle inside of him. “That’s a debt I can’t pay back Marwen. All I can do is live, breathe and guard the Windlands, and the realm if called upon.” 

“And the King.” Marwen added on. He was shy boy, but sharp as well, never forgetting one detail. Same could not be said for lord Richard. 

“Yes, my lad especially the King.”

Delving further in the forest they found a thicket that looked like an overgrown nest. A linear trail of deer prints marked the sodden soil. The tracks curved around one tree and went left. Another turn was made right. It must’ve been close. When the tracks carried on, it appeared as though they may have wondered a little southward. Barks of the trees were of a lighter, chestnut shade. Bright green cloaked the leaves. For Edward it seemed foreign to him but did not at the same time. He had been in Windreach for years. The only time he journeyed outwards to march south was during war. One to kill a horrible king who had taken his father and locked him a tower and another to stop a treacherous uprising of Branch Seabrynn. What was he marching south for now? For feast, balls and jousting tournaments that would bankrupt the realm and every province since they payed taxes for it. How was he serving his King if he was drinking ‘till his liver bursts from his belly?  

 A bank of a river stream was where they stopped at. Water flowed through the limestone rocks that sat on the pebbled riverbed. Schools of fish came leaping out of the stream. Strings of water droplets carrying with them and descending back into the stream. Five geese flew and flapped their wings, showering in the river. Lucky for them no bears were sighted anywhere nearby. Richard would crave such a fight and a bear could kill him or grievously injure him with four or more rakes to his flesh as that and just like that a war could start between Branch Canntheron and The Royal Branch of Dargon. The only silver lining in that situation was that his heirs Arthur and Ellena seemed more amiable than their lord father.  

“Squire, hand me a horse.” Edward hoped for a moment that he had his own squire. Or that one of the guards were generous enough to lend him their own horses. Marwen took the reins and lured a horse to Richard. Richard mounted it and ran off to the left. “Do you see us catching up to that horse, my lord?” 

“No,” He answered, prudently. “We need to stay here with the guards. We’ll follow him alright, but it’s best to be safe than sorry. Besides he probably might be going farther west, unknowingly to The Marshes and heading to Mistwatch Grove.” 

“Aren’t there snakes over there and alligators?” 

“True there are, lad.” But they were six hundred miles from Mistwatch Grove and there was no time. Getting to Crown’s Harbor was the main goal. Wandering was too dangerous for a person in the Windlands for it was as ancient as it was harsh, cold and wild.”

The sun was setting and the sky took an orange-reddish color. Clouds thinned and drifted off. Further in the woods beneath the wooden towers that toppled them were blankets of bright green moss that lay upon the ground. Between the crack of the thicker, umber-brown roots were lichens and onto the bark grew brackets. The soil was getting softer as they kept to the path. Horse tracks followed the deer tracks. All they found was yet another thicket of gnarled, thin and broken tree limbs and twigs. “My lord, look.” Marwen shook his shoulder. Edward turned his attention from the horse and deer tracks and looked to the doe and fawn that stood planted there. “Take the shot, Marwen.” Edward urged him. “Go on.” 

Marwen readied his bow, pulled the string back to his collar and ear. His eyes narrowed with focus, staring greedily and anxious to hit his target. An arrow hit the deer but it was not his.  

More arrows came their way. Hitting each man that did not have their shields raised. Richard had an punch straight through his knee, bursting it open. He fell reeling on the ground. Marwen took an arrow to the left of his side.  Edward tackled marwen in an effort to shield him from the onslaught. “stay down, boy.” From the shadow of his lord's cloak he could head men dropping to the ground. It sounded like slabs of meat only with armor on. Some screamed, others died instantly. Hearing the arrows pound, and pierce flesh made marwen tremble like never before. He had never known a battle. This would be his first taste.

The black tip of the arrow stuck out of the shattered, bloody ruin of his leg bone. The arrow broken whilst hanging on a splinter was coated with Richard’s blood which was gushing out of his leg and making a small red river streaming toward his arm.  “Iron.” Edward stated. Iron was used by the Prime folk during their invasion but is now used to make steel after the aerynthians invaded four thousand years ago. The sound of armored boots trampling the dirt came from the same direction soon as the arrows ceased. The roaring of a thousand men filled the air.  

 All of them were armed in bronze-disk chestplate and boiled leather brigantines, charging at them carrying swords, war and battleaxes made of iron. Shrill screams followed as edward turns from covering marwen to block a blow. Wind made the sword sing loud as the man's axe clashed against it. Mostly due to the fact that it was iron whereas Wind was an ancient and more mysterious craft. The block so powerful the man staggered off his footing. Edward made a cut so violent that wind bit through the man's bronze disk armor and raked the flesh from his neck, chest and shoulder. His head fell in tow. Another man came at him; is sword aimed for Edward's hips. Marwen rammed into him with his shield. As the man fell marwen rained blow after blow each one blocked in exchange.

All he could see from the ground were feet and armor. Screams from severed limbs and spilled guts. Some even burning and cooking in their armor from the flaming arrows. 

Edward parried an oncoming downward strike from a clansmen coming from his left. Swung to his right and came down with his own reply turning to his left. The blow quick and graceful yet savage enough to tear open his belly and spill his entrails. The blade was light in weight despite how heavy it looked. When he wielded it for the first time as a boy it would feel as though it were alive for a reason beyond him and as he cut a man in two he could feel the man's pain.  His bones would quake. His blood and skin would singe and boil as the strange steel would kiss it.

 Marwen caught the handle of the blade seeking to rip it from the grasp of the clansmen. The man twisted the squire's arm. His strength was enough to bring marwen to his knees. The man then stamped an axe to marwen's side. Having the boy scream and lay his arm down in pain. Edward's teeth bit down. his sword made a violent swing for his head. Steel bit clean through the strings of flesh on his neck that held his head to his shoulders and Edward slid through. His head flew in mid-air and hit the ground and blood spewed constantly from the place where his head once was. 

“marwen, MARWEN.” He shook him, fearing to lose him. He was bleeding terribly too with sweat dripping off of his face. Lord Edward knew what a battle can wrought. Not knowing if you’re going to live or die. A thousand other thoughts rushing through your head as well on top of the main two. Edward touched his wound and bloodied his hands. 

“GUARDS.” He called out for them. They were running off from the slope to come and help him. “Get him back to inn, MOVE.” He ordered them.  

Dreadful memories filled his head. The first one was when Stellyn was wounded. An arrow was in his arm. The sound of clashing swords, banging shield clattering in a distance too far from the present. Spears snapped in two blood spattered and spilled onto the earth. What did the earth do? Only drunk the blood greedily from good brave men that fought hard for their homes.  A vision came to him and glimpsed a babe with brown eyes and brown, short hair. “Keep him safe.” A voice told him. “At all costs.” 

“Yes my lord.” Said Stellyn in the vision. Edward closed his eyes and the vision casted away from him and travelled by the wind to the stars burning away like the other dreams of men. Tears burned through his eyes like the nearby fire that made them shimmer as they stream to his nose. He held Marwen, his arms wrapped around him, cradling Marwen’s head as a man or woman would with their newborns. Burning trees crackled as the flames boil and pop open the bark and inner wooden layers. 

“Lord Edward.” Sur Rory came to him, prying him off to carry the boy. “Get him to the inn,” Edward told Sur Rory. “Keep him safe.”  

Sur Rory spirited away into the forest, carrying Marwen on his shoulders. Blood was flowing onto sur Rory’s shoulder seeping into the crevices of the armor. Edward could see drips of it coming out of his leggings. He couldn’t tell if he was wounded or not. “lor…lord…lord Edward.” Marwen was losing his consciousness. 

“I’m here, boy I’m here.” He promised him in an effort to comfort him. Hours have passed. The setting sun had waned and up came the moon and the night sky with it. All trees were bright green, they had to get northeast to the inn before they both die. Richard was probably already there, the gods once again praise the fat fool. Will they praise Marwen, a squire who fought bravely and loyally for two men of higher status than him? Who took the head of an axe for them? He did not want to know, although he did at the same time. Pondering will not serve me, only his brave squire, a nurse or scholar. Behind him the flames roared constantly consuming every tree in its path. 

Night had fallen as they doubled back for the inn and treading deeper west. Further on the forest they saw torches. The smoke and flames were miles from them by now. The wind lord had to glimpse from behind to make sure of it. Depsite the distance a safe feeling was a remedy he could scarce afford. All he can do for for now is hope Marwen and Richard are safe and keep moving. 

“Father.” Someone called out. Edward could not see his face only the tendrils of flame that furled atop a carved wooden club. Another man came with a lit torch. Both flames looked like golden-red stars gleaming in the darkness of the woods.

. “Did you see them, Torren.” Right when he heard “torren” he was ready to leap out of the bushes.

 “Fuck me, where are they.” He heard what could be Tobyn cursing to himself. 

Edward got up but was stopped by Sur Rory. 

“No my lord. You must stay here.” He said, advising caution. “That could one of them same brigands that wounded your squire.” 

Edward vehemently wrenched his hand free from Sur Rory and gave him that cold, bristling stare. “I know my son’s voices when I hear them, Sur. ” Edward then rose from the ground. Seeing Torren and Tobyn was a relief to him. 

“ Come here boys.” He waved at them and the tendrils of flames fluttered with the wind drawing close to him with haste.

“is he with you Rory?”

“Yes mi'lord, behind the tree.”

Edward lifted marwen from Sur Rory’s shoulder.

 “Alright, come on now.” He let him down, gently. “There we go.” When Sur Rory stood up, an arrow whistled and caught Sur Rory square in the throat. “Rory.” Edward shouted.  Torren and Tobyn quickened their pace, rushing over to save their father and friend. 

Marwen’s face was drenched with sweat. The blood was all over him staining his pants. Strands of a strange yellow-whitish fluid flowed into the blood making it into a milky red color and his face was as pale as snow. His breaths were ragged and raspy like sawdust. 

“By the gods.” Torren flashed with concern. “What happened to him?” just as they picked Marwen up again, he made a hoarse, throaty, cough. Fear stirred in Edward like a rotten soup.  His jaw clenched and eyes twitched. That’s when he realized what he thought he knew but not the extent that he knows now. That was man who not only vowed to serve him. He wasn’t just another guard or soldier in his ranks. He loved him like one would only love flesh and blood as a son loves a father. That was a love that Edward will never let fall into the hands of the gods, or to the dust of the skies. Tobyn stood from cover with a crossbow in his hand. He launched a quarrel and he saw it smash against the archer’s chest.  Regardless of that, another arrow, lit on fire caught a tree that was not so far from them. Tobyn put the bolt in the crease, pulled the arched lever backwards, stood, took aim and shot but seemingly he did not hit a thing. In his failure he yelled 

“RUN.” Torren and Tobyn held him up with all of the strength they ad in them and ran back to the inn. He could see the lights of the windows blaring in the darkness as they got closer to it. The bushes rustle. Out of the bushes where his sons along with Arthur and Ellena came to his call. They got him into the inn with a trail of blood. 

“Torren, the pouch. QUICKLY.” Edward shouted at him, feeling guilty shortly after but did not have the time to have a profound conversation. Fumbling with his pouch, he managed to give it to him. It was a bottle of the  nectar to ease the pain.  They lay Marwen flat on a table. 

“Dunley, do you have any loincloth or rags?” 

Dunley gave him a puzzled face, as though he was going to ask a question of what happened to them both and how, but he knew not to ask, for there was no time for him to answer. “In the bar, bottom drawers.” 

“Thank you.”

 “Ellena how’s Richard?” 

“They have him back there… in the wine cellar at the moment. He’s bleeding…everywhere I don’t know. All I can say is that they’re doing what they can.” 

In reply of that Edward, banged a clenched fist to the table. His head facing down to hide his reddened face and the veins bulging from his brow. He wanted another kind of answer, less vague. But that was something only the healing of both their wounds could do. In a spiral of rage on top of rage he stormed to the bar, found the loincloths and opened some beer to put on Marwen’s wound. He then poured a drop of it on loincloth. “You’re going to okay lad, LOOK AT ME.” He yelled, pleadingly in frustration. He held Marwen’s face as he pressed the beer-sodden cloth to his wound. The squire screamed as Edward expected and loud too. Marwen was in shock, shivering at the pain. Tobyn and Ellena held Marwen down. Edward pressed it again and another scream came with it. Edward checked the wound and saw the pus gather again. He pressed it a fourth time but only got a small wincing out of Marwen. Exhausted of options, Edward then snatches the torch from Torren’s hand, smothers it to the cloth and then the cloth to Marwen’s wound. Ellena then ripped off a piece of her dress to wrap and tie the loincloth around marwen’s waist. 

“We should leave, father” Tobyn suggested, his eyes teeming with fright. “If someone’s coming for us-” 

“Let them come,” Torren unsheathed his sword. “Give them a taste of steel to see them creep back into the shadows.” 

Arthur had his bow and arrow out. “I’ll stand by you.” He promised. 

“Are you both mad?” Asked Ellena in anger and concerned of how reckless they both were. “Let’s say if one of you step out that. Next thing you know I have to rip off another piece of my dress to dress both of your wounds.” 

“SO THEN WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE US DO.?” Arthur yelled at her. 

“ENOUGH, THE BOTH OF YOU.” Edward roared, ending the verbal fight between them both. Torren was a good sword fighter, he’s seen how good he was with the training yard with Sur Ryland. Arthur he hadn’t seen in years, but from the looks of it he seems to be a good archer. The problem was that whomever they are, at this moment they were outnumbered and the only way they’re getting out of there is to find an alternate exit of some kind. Surely there should be one.

 “Ellena, stay with him. As of now, no one leave this inn. Tobyn come with me.” Edward walked off and went into the wine cellars. The dark wooden tables and floors were drenched with blood. Red, bloodied towels hung to dry on iron hangars. Puddles mixed with water, beer and blood formed under the table mingling as one puddle met the other. 

“Father, when does the coronation start?” 

“The sixteenth of this month, ah fuck me like a whore.” Richard growled, wincing sharply at the pain. 

“That’s four days from now.” Tobyn counted. “We have to be there, father we can’t stay here. If King Phaeus sees that we arrived late he’ll- 

“What, chop of my head,” Richard laughed and grimaced as he lurched his back up. “When I get there late or no, he’ll have to explain to me as to why I have an arrow in my leg and if he had anything to do with it. Yet another grievance to set upon the court. More gold for me, cough, cough if I make it there alive.” 

“You will, I swear it.” 

“My men, they’re all dead?” Asked the fat, wounded lord. Edward nodded his head in reply. “We need to find out who did this we need to kill them Ed.” 

“We have no time to think on that. As of now your leg we- 

“Oh fuck my leg.” Richard bristled. “Just cut it off if you bloody want to. I’m tell you Ed I want answers. I want AAACHH.” Edward gnashed a cleaver into his wound, stretching it further to his knee. The blood was gushing and squirting outwards. Dunley and Barba were shocked at this. She was holding his tightly with her hand on her mouth. 

“Father stop” Tobyn tried to get him off but Edward pushed him away. 

“My son’s lives are in both our hands now, Richard.” Edward’s jaw was clenched and teeth bit down. He felt his body shaking with every move he was making. “I will not further risk it on a fools quest for vengeance, I need your head in this. ” 

Richard gave him a sullen stare that only provoked Edward’s anger. Edward then sawed deeper in the flesh which caused Richard to scream louder. “YOU NEED TO WITH ME ON THIS. Do you understand?” Edward’s stare was sharp as a blade. He was ready to plunge deeper. “DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?” 

“YES.” Richard yelled, pleading for the excruciating pain to stop. “Yes.” It was good to have him agree. He needed to be Edward’s side it just that he could not help but feel guilty for that. Although his stomach remained intact, not made into jelly as his first time killing a man was. Not only that, you could just look at the man, Edward made the man’s leg look worse than the arrow did. Sur Rory could’ve been here. The gods could’ve flew that arrow anywhere. The leg, the chest, arm or on a tree yet they choose to take his life and nothing Edward could’ve done about it. 

 “When do you think we can be safe to travel father?” Asked Tobyn. 

“It’ll have to be soon.” Edward answered “The lords that supported Richard still refused to pay royal taxes. If Richard doesn't show then….

“….there will be a war.” Said Torren, almost as grim as his father. 

“They'll assume the king had a hand in it. Or the princes.” Richard spoke with a strained grunt.

“Father, didn't you support Richard during the war?”

“i did, and I still do.”

“By supporting that red-haired cunt.” Richard spit and coughed back.

“By supporting the realm, Richard. There were a hundred thousand behind and above those walls and you would've blindly led them to slaughter.” 

An arrow punched through the wooden door. Howling and barbaric cheering can be heard outside of the inn. First from the door, then the sides and then the back. They're letting us know now “Dunley, is there another way out?”

 “Yes, my lord. Over there at the back of the cellars. It’s secret one, hidden by the bushes.” 

“Good, we’ll take it when we leave on the morrow.” He looked at his son’s. “Arthur and Tobyn you two are on watch tonight 

“Aye, Lord Edward.”  

“Father, we have two wounded.” Tobyn pointed out, acting as though his father had forgotten about that. “How we make the trip without them slowing us down, or one of them dying. It’ll take a month or two at best.” 

“We’ll have to figure it out son. It’s going to be a long march.” Edward replied, his tone grim as always. Outside of the cellars he could hear a woman crying. Edward and Dunley exited the cellars in stepped in the inn from the back. 

*Bethany*

“A wise man, or woman in your case should know how important rest is, my lady.” Said Lady Lyla.   

“Men at war barely sleep all the time,” Bethany stated, although the song of clashing steel did not sound outside of the bastion, and lit, flaming boulders were not flying and smashing against houses of the townsfolk. Yet men at war die the same no matter what, she thought, thinking of Edward. She wanted to cry, to be angry and to sleep yet all she did was stare at the high chair.

 it sat in front of the Grey Throne. Its cushion was that of burgundy, with a floral pattern. Lines of it were carved in gilded steel. Large circled tacks made from bronze were stuck in there to hold the polished leather. The moonlight shimmered through the window. “Do you know what will happen tomorrow?” She Asked Lyla. “My son, a boy who could barely even speak will have speak for the needs of another family. He will be representing our very image.” 

“He’s six years old.” Lyva tried to assure her. “My son Arthur has to speak to other lords every time Richard went off hunting. Ever since he was five.”  A lovely, comely smile carved on Lyla’s face. Bethany only soured from the inside. Your son is different he does not have the same condition. She thought, worry and doubt clouding over her every word. You don’t understand how much Justin does not take anything seriously. He could say the wrong thing and insult them and he wouldn’t even know it. Lyla placed a hand gently on her shoulder. For a moment Bethany thought she could read her thoughts. She looked at her, brow raised. “A thousand things can go wrong, Lady Bethany but what can we do to control them. Staring at the chair won’t do anything. Get some rest, you’re going to need it. “Wordless, Bethany gave her a nod and headed to her room. 

Lyla’s voice was as soft as a pillow, she was tall as a tree with cat-like eyes that seem to cut into a man’s heart if she stared at you long enough. Richard must have felt much comfort in her voice and her presence.  She wondered day and night how much Edward would feel comfort in her presence as well. But he only just left Windreach. He could be a month’s ride at best to Crown’s Harbor. All she thought of was “the winds are blowing.” Her husband has said it to her and her children more than enough times. The question was to her, how long it will take to hit us? Where will we hide and how will we survive? All questions could only be answered whenever the gods see the time fit to answer. 

She made it to her room, opened the door and lied on her bed. Out of the window the moon turned orange for a moment and when the clouds wheeled past it, it took the ordinary, milky white color.  “It’s autumn’s moon, sweet Beth.” She heard her father, Lord Horrace’s voice. “Every Marrister was married under this moon. This moon marked the end of the summer.” When she was little she’d see her father stare at the moon every night. He even read a book during the moonrise just to watch it turn orange again. She cried herself to sleep at that memory.

The light of the sun hit her face and she woke. A knock on the door sounded. “Come in.” she allowed. The door opened and it was Sur Ryland with Melvin and her little Justin. “Are you ready, my sweet?” She said to him. Touching him on the cheek. He nodded, timid and unsure which made her unsure. Her nostrils flared and she stood stiffened. “I warn you Melvin, the Whitepeak’s are our allies, we cannot risk insulting them.” She told him. ”Sur Ryland, have the maids fetch beef, salmon, beer and bread as courtesy for their arrival.” 

“Aye my lady.” He bowed and left. She gave Justin her hand and said to him.

 “Be strong my son.” That seemed to be too much weight on a boy his age and condition. 

“Yes mother.” He said. That gave her but a flicker of hope. They trotted down the winding stairs of the bastion and entered the Windwhisper Keep.  Grey stone columns stood between two windows that faced a glare of the sunlight. Lady Lyla was standing there waiting for her as if she was to guide her through it. Bethany told him to go the high chair. He ran to the chair and struggled to get atop of it. Melvin offered to help him but Justin stubbornly tried to keep climbing it himself. Bethany rushed over to him and finally got him up the chair. “Lady Bethany, may I present to you your two noble guests, Lord Hodd of Branch Whitepeak and his daughter Lady Megan.” As the announcement went on Justin was staring down, chewing and fixing on his sleeves. Her hand slapped his hand. Justin reeled his hand backwards to cope with the blow.  Bethany then stood properly and composed “Honored guests I have the grace to introduce Lord Justin of Branch Greywind, youngest son and heir to lord Edward Greywind and Guardian of the Northlands and lady Bethany of the branches Marrister and Greywind, regent of Windreach at Lord Edward’s absence and Guardian of the Windlands.” 

Bethany saw the look on Lady Megan’s face. She was pale as the moon was the other night. Her eyes red, her cheeks were gaunt as a gnarled tree and her dress looks to have been something she wore the previous day. She was mourning, the poor child but of what they’ll find out. “You are welcome in these halls, good friends.” She announced as a quiver of a frown fought Bethany’s smile. 

“I am pleased to have this meeting with you, My lady.” Her eyes grew larger and wet with stinging tears. Windows of light shaped upon her pupils. “We would’ve came sooner but- 

Her tears came to her. Justin was twisting his sleeves again staring at her being embraced by her father’s arm. Bethany knew she had to slap his hand again but could not since she was in the meeting. “My daughter needed to grieve my lady.” He said as his daughter’s tears seeped into his black doublet. “And so did I.” 

“My son, Bryman rode to battle. A band of those mountain dwelling savages came down on a farming village near Coalriver Keep and a league away from my castle of Hightop.” That was a two week’s march from here, She thought. They should’ve sent more men to stop their march. “How many?” Bethany asked, not willing to know the answer. 

“Five Thousand.” Windreach had ten thousand. That was only half of their number but will cut their numbers in half if they breach the walls. “I asked him to stay and told him that I’ll lead the march but my son…he’s eager to impress. So he marched off and told me to stay. At the time I thought there would not be that many so I sent him a thousand men. They, as you know had more and they cut my son down. His arm…it was gone and we tried healing him but our scholar said that he lost too much blood.” 

“You did not send scouts or spies?” Bethany asked.

”I am an arrogant man, my lady.” He admitted. “That is what costed me a son.”  

“The funeral costs are to be discussed. That’s why we came to you now.” Megan’s hands were shaking as if she was going to fall into another crying fit. “By law it is the liege Branch that has to pay for the funeral costs and that my brother must be buried in the Gravehills. We beseech you to do this for us.” 

 “My lady, I…” Justin looked to his mother to correct him, ready to parrot her words. Scholar Melvin went up to him to assist him. “Understand your loss.” 

“Understand your loss.” He repeated. Bethany stood almost as nervous as Justin was, but stiff as well, which did not serve for her pain. She’ll be having Nectar of the Tally for lunch on this day. She could already taste it in her mouth and it was far from pleasant. She did inform the scholar about the unpleasant taste and scholar Melvin said “That’s the pot calling the ink black.” 

“Your father is a royal escort.” 

Justin shook his head with enlarged eyes “Your father is on a-“ 

“No, you are talking about your father, you say “my father.” The scholar interrupted to correct him. Lady Megan was puzzled. Bethany shut her eyes for a split second in embarrassment. He was learning which was good, but this was not the time to be in that phase. It is as though she threw him in the water to see how good he swam only to see him drown. 

“Right you say-“ 

He waved his finger to and fro “I say my father.” 

“I say my father. Oh, oh okay.” Justin clapped his fingers rapidly in glee. Squealing with joy of his success. 

By the gods. She grew tired of this. “My lady, my husband is on a royal esort, to impede on that is against the king’s law. I apologize, I’ll have two thousand of those men bring you your son’s body and we’ll bury him here in Windreach. For now you can stay at a guess apartment if you wish, before you leave, my lady.” 

“I thank you Lady Bethany, you are most kind, and you lord Justin.” Justin smiled at her and she smiled back at him. Then she left the Windwhisper Bastion. 

Guilt came to her but for the most part she was glad that was over. Torren could’ve been here, listening, being a lord, what he was born to do. Instead he had to go with his brother, he had to be with his father. Both of whom can well defend themselves and are held higher than a woman, a seven year old boy and a twelve year old girl. 

Promises, she though back on that despicable excuse Torren made. The only promise he should be thinking about is how you’re going to protect this family, nothing else. A darker side had gripped her mind. She still couldn’t get over the fact that she was all but alone. A middle-aged, nobleborn woman whose activities consist of lying in bed most of the day, wreathing in pain and thinking of that one dreadful day in her life. 

What made that day worse was that it was common knowledge. Three years after the Siege of Seacastle day Lord Vyrus Vellton’s father Mythan made a jest of it by writing a song and a play. Her husband had his fingers chopped off and threatened to chop off his head. Edward was cold and crueler back then, during the war. After the war he was as calm as the southern winds. Much more gentle. Especially when he had children in his hands. Guilt shrouded her face that day. She wrote a note to her sister Ellyn Marrister and she wrote one back telling her to never write to her again. She cried that day and Edward held her in those lean, hairy and muscled arms of his. Gods that man had a beard on him. That pain still plagued her to this day like frost on soil. 

The next morning she yet again had to endure the sound of galloping hooves taking their leave from the castle of Windreach. With each speeded step they took she queerly wanted lady megan to look back at her as her husband did. Oddly enough she did but not to say goodbye. More like a cry for help and wishing that she or Beth could do more to serve her. 

Lady Lyla laid her hand upon Beth’s shoulder and said “there is nothing more that you could’ve done.” I don’t need you to tell me that, she wanted to say. Levers were pulled, men shouted atop the grey, stone and granite parapets. The portcullis and off they went riding back Hightop. She went back into the bastion, pain began coursing through her back she felt so stiff that taking the winding stairs to their bedchambers would kill her as much as journeying farther north. 

Lyla assisted her. She sat on the nearest chair she could find, the Grey throne. When she did, a queer sense of power came over her. She knew that she wasn’t a queen and to declare herself such would be against the laws of gods and men. Not much was said about the Queens of the winds. There was one queen of Branch Skywind who was married to Dorren Greywind and went missing years before the Wrath of the Winds when the Storm Queen casted storms that blew winds strong enough to rip trees from the roots, to rip castles from the earth, to make the tides rise from the seas as high as mountain tops. She had an army of men possessed to do her bidding. All manner of dark creatures were said to be in her service; such as Giants, stone golems forged from the Grey Mountains to the west. Spiders, wraiths, horses and other steeds forged from wood, ice and earth, along with Great wolves, Sabertooths, mammoths, and Dire Bears with eyes bluer than the skies. Most of the history of the Northlands is forgotten, especially after the Aerynthian invasion that happened four thousand years ago. The door to the Keep opened. The cold wind came with it giving her a bone-and-flesh deep chill. The chills had her hairs prickle with bumps. In turn that caused a sharp bit a pain to shoot through her arm. 

“My lady,” Sur Ryland called. “There is a man named Dunley from the Windwood inn. He says that he wishes to speak with Lady lyla Canntheron.” 

“Yes, what does he need?”

The man crept in there, trembling in fear for some reason, holding that leather cap of his. He was old man, thin and short of posture, with a spotted scalp and grey whiskers sprouting from his ears. 

“My…my...lady. Your husband…his leg be wounded. Someone…out… in the woods, they shot an arrow in him.” His teeth were blackened on one side and gnarled on the other Lady Mya became worried but confused.  “Is he dead?” Lyla asked. 

“No mi’lady.” 

“Do you know who did this good man?” 

“Sorry I don’t, Mi’lady. I was in the inn. My wife was patchin’ em up good, she was. They’ll be fine, Lord Edward said for me to tell ya this. A good man he is. He said he’ll head my inn by mornin but I don’t know if he’d make the trip. Crown’s Harbor is a long way down the road.” 

“Thank you, my good man. I’ll see that you are fed and rewarded for this deed. Sur Ryland if you may?” 

“Yes my lady.” Sur Ryland escorted him out. 

“Scholar melvin.” She called on him. 

“Yes my lady?” 

“Write to brother Cedwyn. Tell him to find my husband and see that he travels to Crown’s Harbor safely.” He bowed his head and glided away with those grey wool and silk robes he wore. Bethany then made for her bed chambers. It was a long walk and the pain still went through her. 

Before she rested a knock sounded on the door yet again. It wasn’t a hard knock like Sur Ryland’s or the Scholar’s. It was a gentle, soft knock. She pained herself to open the door. it was her little daughter Samantha. “Ugh, it’s late Samantha.” Bethany growled, slightly annoyed. “I know and I’m sorry, I- 

“What is it child.” She fluttered her hand about, urging Samantha to get to the point. “It’s Justin.” She pleaded. “He hasn’t slept all night. When he woke he started screaming. I asked him what was wrong and he just said it was a bad dream.” She wanted to rest, to ease her aches and pains. Drowsiness swept her vision after she took the two drops of Nectar of the Tally but her son needed his rest as well, bad dreams or not. She marched down the winding stairs to justin’s room. She knocked twice and soft which took some energy out of her. “Justin.” She knocked harder. 

Finally, he cracked open the door. She felt like an iron paddle at first ready to lay out judgement and rules only to soften when she saw Justin looking sweaty and feverish. Justin’s face was drooped down and holding his pillow betwixt his arms. Bethany could smell the must off of the pillow. She knelt stiff and painfully. The pain shot into her knees, back and hips. When she got closer, she almost felt a cramp in the hamstrings. As the first knees landed on the wooden floor planks the wind was out of her for a bit and came back. Her hands landed on his small shoulders. “You should be resting Justin.” 

Justin didn’t speak, just nodded. “You know that you should be resting.” He only nodded. “Say yes.” 

“Yes.” 

“Yes mo-“. She waited for him to finish her sentence. 

“Yes Mother.” 

“So why aren’t you sleeping?” her hand were on his cheeks. Justin stood still, holding the pillow and walking off to the dark corner. Bethany tried to touch him and he screeched at her like a homing hawk scratching at you to defend itself. Bethany went for him again, grabbed him by the arm, and twirled him ‘round and stared at him hard. 

“Tell me why Justin? I need to sleep too and I can’t and won’t sleep until you tell me what is wrong with you. I will not have my son ragged from lack of sleep. So please tell me.” Justin gave her a sullen stare. The stern eyes that marked her face were not welcoming to him so she took to being calm to put his guard down. 

What was so bad that you could not tell me? She thought. “That woman…today at the meeting.” He said, a tear flowing through his eye. “Her brother died.” 

Dread and guilt stirred inside of her. She had met Bryman Whitepeak before at a feast when they went to the castle of Hightop. He was Torren’s age and just as strong and stubborn too. Proud boy as well and his pride was merely punctured when Torren won the contest of who wouldn’t scream while they walked on burning coals. He won against Tobyn in a wrestling match. Even the innocent games children play must come to an end at some point in life. “They wanted to bury him and now they can’t.” 

“We will bury him here in Windreach which is a great honor.” In the Northlands it was considered the highest honor to be buried in your liege branch as Edward told her. But she never saw it like that and nor did her husband. 

Justin pondered for a moment. “Is there honor in death?” 

“No Justin.” She told him “Nor will there ever be.” 

“But i…I can die too and you and Samantha, all of us. We all die.” 

Bethany hated how he was right, just like his father. Grim, but right. She wanted to tell him that it will all be fine. That there was nothing for him to worry himself about but he had his father in him. She could see it. The way he sat there staring at the window, restless and afraid of something. Watching and knowing what the winds may carry. But for Justin the words could not sound.  “Yes, my son.”  She spoke the words, reluctantly. “We all must die. But what do we do first?” 

Justin knew the answer but refused to say it. “You are too young to have these thoughts in your mind.” She held his shoulders. He stood straightened and looking straight at her. “As long as I live you will not die on my watch.” She promised him and the promise flew off of Justin like rain off of wind. “The winds will blow. That’s-that’s what father says” Justin pointed out. 

Bethany nodded, agreeing with him. “Yes my sweet boy, the winds will blow.” 

*Marwen*

An empty void of darkness was casted around him. His eyes opened and he glimpsed the pale figure once more. It leaned in closer to him. “Look at me.” The pale, faceless one said, caressing his face. “the mother of the earth, she sees her children, I see you child.” She came to his ear. 

“I see you.” Marwen looked to his side and saw the inn burning. 

Like the forest, wood cracked and blackened. Each crack sent embers of flame and splinters flying in the dry, blackish-grey air. They lit as they felt. Frightened, Marwen twirled on the table until he fell off of it, crawling. He then suddenly woke and found the inn actually burning. The roof came down carrying fire and smoke down with it. Tiny splinters landed gently on the squire's flesh and seared it. Marwen winced and like in the dream he rolled and sprawled off of the table with a bit of pain.  The burning roof slammed down and shattered the table and a line of flame slithered its way closer to him like vines on a tree.  

He ran through the smoke of the arch atop the wine cellar entrance, coughing all the way there. The smoke too dense for him to breathe. The air was sucking out of him as a leech would with a man’s blood. His coughs then turned to wheezes. He had to get out and fast too or he would surely suffocate. On a table in front of him was a large spill of blood and bits of stringy flesh left behind to rot and smell. Although it was not enough to block out the smoke since it was seeping through the door. Flames consumed the door. Marwen ran with his mouth covered by nothing but his hand. His wound he felt opening and hurting as he ran. 

In response to the pain he found himself on the ground, holding his side. The hard hit to the ground must’ve did it? He lurched and made a painful grunt to stand up and jaunted forward which nearly had him back on the ground again. His hand had caught the ground and helped him stand up with a skip in his step. Quite in luck, he found Dunley’s old cane resting by a corner. He limped his way to the cabinets where he found week old herbs resting in a jar of fermenting water. Flies patrolled the cans of the jars. The smell was awful but it was better and less deadly than the smoke that was soon to approach. He found a ladder. His throat felt raw. His lips closed, twisted and clenched as he were in fear of a fly going down his gullet. Although his “gullet” growled saying otherwise.

On top of the ladder seemed to be a secret wooden entrance of some kind, but in this case it was an exit. He climbed it and found dirt atop of him shaped and spread. Dunley must have dug this didn’t he? The man was as clever as he was old. If Marwen had a hat on him he would most certainly tip it to him. He then climbed through more of the dirt and found a chain nailed to a wooden slab. Thank the gods. Pain shot up from his leg to his hips. He could feel a cramp coming on. His mouth as dry as a bone. 

He rose his hand from his wound and saw blood coat it like wool on a sheep’s skin. Opening it, he felt the light of the sun touch his brow once more. Yet his vision was a bit blurry to see the sun more clearly since he lost good deal of blood. He crawled out. The mouth of his wound caught half of the exit. Marwen felt the pain come and lowered himself carefully inward before crawling back out again. Surrounding him were bushes.  As he lied down he saw the inn consumed in the flame and heard men cheering from a distance that did not seem too far from him. Before he moved another inch he heard a man approaching the bushes humming along the way.  He had the same iron disks as his chest plate yet did not have the fur cloak and cuirass as the one who wounded him did. 

The man loosened his strings on his rough spun breeches and a stream of urine sprayed on the leaves. Marwen slided his sword out halfway, looking to see if the man heard or not. Lucky for him he seemed to pay no heed to it and the Squire continued gently drawing his sword out like a sewing string. When it finally came out it sung loud enough for the man to hear. He looked and Marwen dove out of the bushes and the sword drove right into the man’s throat. Marwen held his chestto break the coming fall. When he fell the wound hurt again but the man’s muscled body absorbed some of the pain away from him.  

He rose from the ground and the pommel of what seemed to axe made a bone shattering clash to his jaw making him angry. His brown turned more ragged and feral. His teeth barred giving his face a wolf-like snarl. He slashed as he rolled on his back and the sword cut him from the waist down, side to side. The man squealed as his manhood fell off, dangling by a fleshy cord and a tide of blood down with it. Another man kicked the blade from Marwen’s hand, sending it flying. The third one grabbed a handful of Marwen’s long, brown hair and yanked his head up. Marwen growled and battled him but to no avail. The second man then had an arrow plunged through his skull. The man then held Marwen up with a war axe to his throat but another arrow flew and caught him in the knee. 

Marwen’s elbow slammed on his nose. He turns around and coils his arm about the man’s neck, took the man’s axe and brought it down the back of his neck. He fell down, dead with the back of his neck a red ruin. Marwen landed another blow cutting off the man’s head. His orange doublet covered on blood. The instant after he felt tired. Killing can take a lot of strength out of a man. Lord Edward would tell him that when he would take him out to hunt. His eyes were closing. Everything was spinning around him and he fell. 

He did not remember falling.

 His eyes peered up, drowsy and caught unaware. He woke, frightened and jolting towards a nearby Briar tree. Voices sounded from behind the tree. Footsteps came closer. Marwen took out his sword and pointed it prepared to face who might come. A man’s face appeared halfway from the tree with a bit of blond hair. It wasn’t a clear target but nonetheless he lunged at it anyways yet the man was faster than him. His axe thwarted Marwen’s sword away and he caught his arm and held him, restrained. That was until Marwen sunk his teeth hard into his arm. The bite was so hard it forced the man to let Marwen wrench free, dashing his foot to the man’s crotch. He fell face first on the ground twisting on his back to stand up. 

Marwen saw the man curling in pain. He looked young, with blond fair hair and scruffy beard. “Tobyn?” His eyes widened in surprise. 

“Yes it’s me you shit.” Tobyn yelled. Marwen urged him to lower his voice. “They’re not here. Arthur killed them all back at the inn.” 

“Are you alright?” Marwen asked him, it was the least he could do. 

“I’m fine. Can’t say the same for you.” His pained groan spoke otherwise. “Marwen, I know-ah…I know you were facing a matter of life and death but do… He winced “Do not ever kick me in the balls again.”

 “It doesn’t look that bad.” At least you don’t have an axe wound going halfway to your ribs. 

Marwen rose with a sharp wince as he felt his wound opening again. He jolted halfway back down as the pain sailed through him. He rose again, leaning against the tree. “How far are we from Crown’s Harbor?” 

“How the fuck should I know.” He lashed out at him, still holding his crotch. 

“We’re twelve days away from Brendenton. There we will find a good scholar to heal both you and Lord Richard” Torren answered, appearing from the trees. “You’re finally awake. You’ve been shivering as if you came from frozen water.” Marwen gave his hand to Tobyn. “Don’t bother with him. Leaving you behind was his idea. Father didn’t want to- 

“But a burning arrow in his shoulder changed his mind. “ Worry washed over him. Does that mean he’s- “Father’s fine. In fact he’s dying to see you again, as always.” 

Marwen fell on the ground. His fingers shifted through sodden mud browning through his nails. When Torren and Tobyn lifted him the air the mud encrusted through the nails. Marwen had to limp all the way there for either of them to reach Lord Edward and the rest of the group. An hour passed and they crossed a small stream of moss-covered rocks and in the other side of the forest. The air was moist. Mist shrouded them and had a touch of a grey smoky smell to it. It must’ve come from the smoke that blew southward from the ruins of what was the Windwood inn.  

 An orange light glowed spots of a circle on the barks of the trees that surrounded them. “Marwen.” They let him loose and Edward’s hug kept him from falling again. He basked in relief, brushing his hair. “Are you alright lad?” 

“I am, my lord.” 

“You said that he was dead, Tobyn.” Ellena cocked her head at him, outraged at how selfish Tobyn can be at times. 

“Any man would have.” Tobyn defended himself. “He looked as good as.” 

“Yet we managed to get our father out and he was wounded as well.” Arthur spoke, shrugging his shoulders in comparison 

“We needed him. Lord Richard was sent as an envoy and royal escort. If we come upon the gates of Crown’s Harbor without him we will surely have our heads on spikes for treason.” 

“The man has a point.” Torren agreed. “Yet he’s more badly wounded than this one.” He pointed a finger at Marwen. The weight of decisions toppled their lips. They could choose to leave him behind for the wolves yet guilt would cloud above them at every step they took gnawing at them like termites in a log of wood. He was a squire of common folk and it would be foolish to leave behind a man of noble blood in his veins especially if he is a royal envoy and escort and is the only line between all of the lords of Wrathmarch launching war against the Dargonyan Dynasty. Thinking of that made Marwen feel like dead weight. 

Lord Edward always told him that he was like a son to him yet he was not his son and his treatment was only a reward for his loyalty. He tried to apologize but Marwen told him that he lived to serve and that was all. Marwen thought back on the inn. It was burning and collapsing and if they would’ve stayed any longer than they would surely have perished in the flames and if they didn’t then the men in the woods would have surrounded them and killed them. Edward gave a curt nod and carried him to a tree. “Bring the boy here, Edward.” Richard grumbled, his face pale as the moon and sweat dripping from his hair, skin and brow. “I would have a word with him.” 

Rolling his eyes, he carried him over there and sat him next to Richard. Edward nested himself by the fire. “We’re going to need food and we’re going to have to scout the area to see if we’re bound to have any more encounters.” He announced “Arthur, Tobyn you both get eyes further down the river.” That was the second time he had them do something. 

“Wait, river. Which one?” Asked Marwen. 

“The first spear.” Edward told him, darkly. “If we cross the river we’ll be down south in a week  making the ride to Crown’s harbor a half a month’s ride.” 

“We’d be in The Duct, praying to the gods that the currents don’t turn us west.” Richard pointed out, in a sharp tone and coughing and wheezing in laughter. The Duct has been one of the most formidable provinces in all the realm. It separates the north from the south. The lords of the Duct held Rivermarch and the Windlands ever since Lord Styron and his brother Yitarius rose in rebellion against and managed to sack Riverpoint. Scholar Melvin told him that Lords Odras Talbart and Dorren Greywind Edward’s great-great grandfather fought and won against the Seabrynns yet Rivermarch fell to constant invasion from the Seabrynns and fought them off years later.  

Marwen gave Richard a queer look, as if he was some chained rabid dog that would bite as soon as look at him. “My lord.” He gave a half bow. 

“They left you behind in there.” Said Richard, bluntly. 

“They did, my lord.” 

“Stop calling me “my lord” because I’m not.” He pointed a finger at Edward. “He is.” You’re right, now get to the point already. Thought Marwen, annoyed.  Marwen already knew the question before it passed the fat lord’s pale, sweat sodden lips.  “Do you know why they left you in that inn boy to burn to a crisp?”  

“Because we need you to get to Crown’s Harbor.” 

“Aye, that’s one way of putting it.” His cough turned hoarse. “They need me more than need you.” 

“That’s not true.” Marwen shouted back at him unthinkingly. 

“You’re right boy.” He seemed to be more humble than usual. Ears opened and willing to listen to anyone who had something to say.

. “You’re right. They need you and me both. They need us both for the great storms to come. He needs you to fight his battles whenever they come and they need me to keep the gold in their purses and keep all the lords in the realm from ramming through those gates and putting every last Dargonyan scum to the sword.”  

“You know what we have in common, we’re always the tools in their plans. The pawns in their chessboard. Oh do they not know to play us wisely.” Richard wiped some of the sweat off of his face. “Gods, I loved being out here. The minute I rode up north, I never wanted to go back down. It was only time I could ever see my family. To see how much my son had grown. To see my wife and daughter ever more beautiful. When I go back to Crown’s Harbor I will never get this chance again.” 

Marwen stared at him as he was staring deep into a puddle. His eyes were not focused on the puddles. Instead it was in his own mind. “When I heard that the cunt King Vhaegar had laid siege to Wrathaven I was at a feast to wed my wife Lady Lyla Farrymore. Gods, I was angry. So angry I felt as though I wanted to ride through those gates and killed everyone in my sight. Lord Russell talked me out of it and gathered me men in the Middlelands and Wrathmarch. I  fought battles left and right and I tell you that killing a man never felt as good as did that day on the Battle of the Cider Fields. I fought a whole year to repel Vhaegar’s forces back from the Middlelands and every Lord has come into my aid since. Even your good lord Edward at a battle not so far from here.” 

“The Battle of the First Spear.” Marwen recalled, darkly. His interest peaked like a new folded mountain. It was a tale not many men are not comfortable telling. His Uncle Stellyn always told him not to fill his head with tales of war yet he wanted to hear more. 

“Exactly. When I heard that Vhaegar was still attacking at the Northlands I thought for sure that I’d face him in battle and bury my battle axe in his skull alas I was wrong and had lord Edward fight with me to the path of great and bloody justice. That was until that fucking soon-to-be-King Phaeus came upon us.” 

“Lord Edward said that you had him tortured for weeks while trying to give you information on King Vhaegar’s whereabouts.” 

“I couldn’t trust him, nor any of the rest of the Avyrrians since I was fighting a war against their kind and he escaped, thanks to your lord that firespawn rode back to Crown’s Harbor in a week after the Siege in Danemont.” 

“But he also killed King Vhaegar and helped bring the realm at peace once more.” Marwen pointed out. 

“Killing your own brother doesn’t make you any better than him.” 

“Apologies lord Richard for what I’m going to say,” Marwen cut him off. “But do you know what you would do if the-soon-to-be-King Phaeus were to let you leave?” 

“Kill every last one of them.” 

“Exactly, You’re his most dangerous enemy and not only to him but to yourself and others. My uncle told me that a man who lives in the past is one of the most dangerous men alive.” 

“Has your uncle ever told you what any other lord would do with a tongue such as yours if your spoke to him in such a manner.” No but I have a clear understanding. 

“Luck for you I am no such lord as that. A man vying for leadership of the realm will always those behind them speaking their minds and it’s my job to listen to them willing or no.” his eyes went at the back of his head. His coughs were hoarse, spewing reddened phlegm. His eyes flickered like a waning candle in cold winds, shaking like a leaf. He fell and ellena ran to him in concern. 

“What happened to him?” Edward stood over her. A look of worry shrouding him from head to toe. 

Ellena pressed her ear to his chest waiting for a pulse. She then jolted her head back up. “He just passed out.” 

“Damn it.” Edward muffled his shout. Worry clouded him from head to toe. Marwen could see it with his tired gaze.  His head went red with a web a veins bulging big and blue, crowning his brow. Marwen’s head tilted nearly an inch. Torren had his hands around Marwen’s head, putting it in place. “Hey, hey stay with us Marwen.” Torren told him. A nod was the only thing Marwen could give. Assurance was not something the gods felt like gifting upon them this night. His eyes grew weary at every second. Time wheeled with the stars overhead.

Everything felt like it was whirling around him. Torren’s face had another face mirroring like shadows on a lighted wall. Past Torren he saw Edward kneeling on the ground looking as though he was searching for a way, a plan yet not one dawned upon him. Looking and watching the frustration of busy minds he began to hear Richard’s voice, the words he said. We’re all pawns on their chessboards. He said. They need us. Marwen felt a shiver run through him like a river up his back. “I know they need me. We need them.” He whispered, muttering it out loud. 

“Marwen, what?” Torren said. Marwen’s senses sprung halfway alert. “Marwen.” Torren shook him to hear what he said. “Marwen, what did you say.” 

Edward caught Torren by the shoulder and threw him aside. ”Did he say something?” 

“He might be getting delirious.” 

That only made Edward more furious. He was helpless as he flies into a fit of rage. Marwen felt it as if they were one in the same. Richard was right about one thing. A wounded man can see what busy and unwounded people can’t and Marwen saw for once in his life. “We have to leave.” He made the decision. “We have to cross The Duct and make it into Brendenton.” 

“What about Tobyn and Arthur?” 

“If we go now we’ll have only the three of us carrying two wounded against what could be a horde of barbarians.” As time passed, their voices became more distorted. 

“I understand that Ellena. Yet time is against us.” He explained himself, hastily. “Torren grab them.” Torren did exactly that. 

“Come on man.” He lifted him. Marwen was confused and growing ever more weary by each passing moment. The strength he needed to lift himself up faded away as Torren stood him up. Barely, could he hear himself say “Let me down.” Or “Leave me here.” Neither did he care if someone heard him or not. Torren was saying something about how he should get up. His voice was not clear to Marwen anymore so he couldn’t make it out. Torren held him with all the strength he had. Pain was coursing through Marwen. The steel of Torren’s armor was biting through his flesh which made Marwen want to squirm free of Torren’s grasp. “Get off of me.” Marwen screamed. 

“Shut up you.” They all gathered at him. Apparently they were trying to have him silent. Yet Marwen only got more confused. Blood flowed out of the bloody bay of his wound like a river. Finally Marwen wrenched himself free, falling to the ground and letting out a loud scream. A crack of bone sounded through the forest.  An armored hand covered his mouth, rattling and struggling to keep him still and wrapping about his head. 

An hour had passed into the winding stars. This night was longer than the last they’ve had. Yet the days ahead were much longer. For any man it would take at least three weeks for them to cross The Duct and reach Brendenton. The currents were strong since it was practically half a sea and can lead a man all the way west. It was risk they had to take. Torren tried to get marwen back up but before he could a scream sounded in the distance. Torren, Edward and the remaining one thousand men ripped their swords from their sheaths ready like the last time. Marwen looked, anxious yet did not have the strength to carry himself for the fight he had in mind. The bushes rustled and out of them appeared and Tobyn and Arthur screaming. “We…we have to…we have to run.” 

Tobyn was shaken with a rank stench of fear. “Slow down son. What do you mean?” 

“We have to…father…we must.”

“There are thousands of them.” Arthur spoke for Tobyn who was stumbling on his words. “They must have twice our number. We can’t stay here and we can’t sleep. If we do then that’ll only make things easier for them.” 

“The kind of easy that’ll have our throats cut before we can blink.” Tobyn looked at both Marwen and Richard. 

“Get them up.” Said Edward. “We’re also going to need wood for a raft.” 

“Aye my lord.” Said a soldier. They grabbed both Marwen and Richard and moved into the forest. Hours passed as they moved about the southern road. No incursions from them since as they moved at watch of sentry pines, bank-mire trees and stingvine willows. 

An arrow flew and caught a soldier square in the head. It broke in half as the helmet rang from the potent blow. A battle cry came from the side of them. Arrows that were aflame flew down upon them and trees set ablaze. Marwen was dropped and another shot of pain ran like a rash all over his body. His neck stretched outwards as his teeth were gritting. His legs he could barely feel and everything was going on all around. Shadows screamed, fell and burned and everything was but darkness to him. He blinked twice and saw Edward parry a man’s blow while in stance and cut his belly open. The next man Lord Edward crossed swords with had his head taken off by a swift blow that Lord Edward gave to the man’s neck. Seeing Lord Edward swing his sword high and low cutting down all who opposed him. He could watch that for days. It wasn’t the wound that hurt him, it was the dolorous words Lord Richard spewed from his mouth to him. How right he was and accepting it was a battle he fought an hour ago. Now the battle reoccurred and became yet the same conflict of whether or not Lord Edward was fighting for him or for himself. A man came at him with an axe ready to bring down and split Marwen’s head off. Marwen lied there, defenseless to stop him from making the killing blow. Suddenly, a horse rode by and a fat shadow leaped off of the horse, tackled them man and had a dagger plunged in the man’s throat. “Lord Richard.” Marwen exclaimed in surprised at fact of how he managed to get up in the first place. 

“Get on the horse, boy.” He told him. And so he did. He climbed on top and rode for Lord Edward. He took out his sword and felt the weight of it increase by every second he held it. He was getting weaker and soon faint and wake up lying on the ground with a pool of his own blood. That is if he can survive the night. 

“My lord.” He shouted at lord Edward as a man was going to strike him behind. Marwen made an uppercut with his sword and it cut right through the bronze disk chest plate and opened him from collar bone to his left nipple. Red blotches of blood sprayed upon Marwen’s face and he spurred his horse to turn to Edward. He gave Edward his hand and before he could accept it a spear rammed through the horse. The horse reeled backwards and fell. Marwen was sent flying to a tree, smashing his back against the hard trunk of the tree. As he rose, his bones snapped and cracked at every move. Edward tried to come between them with sword in hand yet had the butt of an ax handle hit him in the face. Edward fell back and hit the ground. Marwen took his sword out, blocked it with the fuller and jaunted himself up. The muscles in his back tightened as he held his block. A sword then drove right through the man’s face. Chunks of brain matter flew at Marwen and Torren picked him up after he fell. 

The battle was not over. Like Arthur said they had twice their numbers. If they manage to survive this battle then they’ll be marching into Crown’s Harbor with less men than what they had before. From a nearby distance was the braying of horses. The sound got nearer and nearer until finally they came bearing a banner; a white castle on a field of blue. Men in mail and blue and white surcoats came riding on armored horses and swarmed upon the brigands. The clash of steel singing to the skies and carried through the northern winds. 

Marwen fell. His eyes went shut and he finally able to rest peacefully. The dawn had come yet he did not wake as early as the rest of them did. Hills and plain lay ahead. “Hold on there, friend. You’ve out for quite a while.” Said Torren. 

“Torren…the battle…the men…Lord Richard.” 

“Calm down.” Torren assured him. “Lord Richard’s heeled up. Well, partially. Our uncle Cedwyn is here. He rescued us from the Mountain men of Fimbulheim.” 

“The Mountain men.” Marwen was sparked with curiosity. “Why would the mountain men come so far down south?” The only reason they would have for killing a man is because they intruded their land. 

“I’ll bloody tell you why.” Said Lord Richard, riding on his horse. A look of anger on his face. He then slammed an opened a purse of coins on Marwen’s lap. Golden crowns they were, which were known around the realm as the currency of the Royal Court. 

“We should march on Crown’s Harbor at once and kill every last one of them. I mean it. I’ll share the spoils with all of you. I’ll even knight you and give you castles of your own if you want.” 

“What is this?” Edward joined in the conversation. 

“What do you think it is Ed.  It is what it has always been. It’s war.” 

“Lord Richard found a gold purse.” Marwen pointed out. Edward took a look at it and the sight brought a look of shock and pondering. 

“If this is true then I don’t think our noble visit will be of much welcoming as we planned it would be.” Said Arthur. 

Richard slammed a palm on Edward’s chest. “They tried to kill us Ed, it’s them or us.” Marwen saw but a sullen look on Edward’s face. 

“I will not bandy words of treason with you, Lord Richard.” 

“ARE YOU FUCKING BLIND? They nearly killed me, they would’ve killed your squire, your sons, my son and my daughter. You will not turn me away from my vengeance the way you did back when we were at the gates of Crown’s Harbor I swear to the gods that I’ll die before I let that happen.”  

Edward then jerked him in return, yanked up his doublet, slammed him against the wooden cart and said. “Listen to me, He is the King now. I know Phaeus, he is a good man. He would never do this, I just know it and to accuse him of this. To attempt to put my wife and children in danger when they don’t even have their father to protect them. I should kill you for even suggesting that.” 

“my family were king’s before they were, Lord Edward.” 

“I know, and so were we.” Edward spoke coolly. “It’s over Richard. The war is over. Please listen to me when I say that.” 

Edward walked off and Richard told him. “In Wrathmarch we have a saying. One storm may pass only for another to take its place. I’ll try to forget the past yet all must remember those words.”  

Edward apparently ignored him and gathered every one for a speech. “I know we’re all afraid. We have every right to be but don’t let it cloud your judgement. We must sleep for tonight and awake with fresher heads.” By the night they crossed through the hills. Aches of pain sprouted in Marwen’s feet and the bandage wrapped bound to his waist felt a bit too tight. Yet he was lucky at all to have something around his waist at all. The wooden cart was stopped as they saw nothing but bare sea that stretched out for miles. Marwen had never been this far south and this was much larger than he expected. 

“My lord, can I speak to you?” 

“Yes lad.” 

“Lord Richard told me back in the forest that- 

“I know and I heard.” Edward interrupted him, catching Marwen by surprise. “He’s right about one thing. I will need you for the storms to come. The battles, the politics all of it but, do not think for one second that I will not be there by your side. I swear that to you.”

 A warmness sprouted back in his heart again. “I swear the same to you, My Lord.” 

“Get some rest lad, you’re going to need it.” The star shot away from the darkness in the sky. The moon lit upon the pines and owl cooed as they sat upon the branches. The night then bled into day and The Duct went nowhere. Cedwyn had canoes waiting on the bank for them to cross. “Do you plan to come with us uncle Cedwyn?” 

“No nephew, I can’t. Your grandfather and your aunt becomes ever more unstable. Someone’s got to take care of the lunatics.” They all laughed. “Come on men, we ride back for Seacastle. Farewell, Lord Edward. I’ll send a garrison of three thousand men to Windreach.” 

“Thank you Cedwyn.” Cedwyn bowed his head and rode away. Edward and Torren carried Marwen and Richard and lay them on the boat. Ellena went on a boat with Arthur and Toby and Edward and Torren rowed in the same boat as Richard and Marwen. Three days later they had to row past a rainstorm. Fingers of lightning tapped down at far distance. The thunder roared loudly. After that the boat gained a musty smell of rank flesh and sprouting mold. Marwen picked up his head and vomited in the river. He had never been in the sea before so it was only natural for any man to get seasick. As days and nights faded away Marwen’s lips felt dry as a bone. Cedwyn gave them bread and a weeks ration of water which Lord Edward said they could only drink for one day out of two. So they have to wait two days to drink water to save up on the water. The water down here was salt so they can’t drink. Else they’d die.

 A night passed like the rest, dying like men in battle ranks. No one could count how many had passed. It must’ve been a week or a month at least. Certainty was not the armor they wore this day. “A shore, I see it a shore, up ahead.” Torren shouted loud as a horn. 

“Sit down, boy.” Said Edward. As the dove into the mist they saw shadows lurking on the shore. They were lined up and mounted on horses. They passed the mist and landed on the shore. “Come no closer.” Shouted the man who was leading them. He sat on a horse carrying a banner; an armored knight atop a brown horse, holding a colored lance on a field of orange. 

“Are you Lord Desmond Brett, of Branch Brett and Lord of Brendenton.?” Edward asked him.” 

“No, My Lord of the winds. I am Endrew Brett, his son and Lord-Regent in his stead. My Lord Father rode south to Crown’s Harbor to attend the King’s festivities. ” He said, sternly. “Endrew.” Richard called him. Torren as carrying him. “Gods you were so small when I last saw you.” 

“I was, Lord Richard.” 

“Endrew I- 

“Lord Endrew.” He corrected them. 

“Lord Endrew, we’ve had a long ride and once we have food and shelter we will be on our way in three days.” 

“I see the Battle of Lemonriver keep being our golden key.” Richard boasted. He gave him an unsure look. Like he didn’t trust him. Although most sons without their lord fathers become overprotective and don’t know who to really trust, whether they’d be friend or foe. The men on the horses rode back south escorting Edward, and the rest and carrying Marwen. Through the forest was but fields of horngrass and dandelions. Further on were prairies and bushes of purple lavender flowers. 

The dirt road curved and the followed it all the way up a hill. Before they got to the gates a man shouted. “Riders in the south.” Spears and swords shifted to the south like snow carried by strong winds. Banners flapped in the wind and turned towards the shadows in the south. “Do you have a good sight? Can you see them.” 

“I can my lord. A red flaming bird, phaedrons on a black field.” 

“Fucking cunts.” Richard bristled with anger. Marwen moved to stop him by grabbing his arm but Richard wrenched away without effort. “My lord.” Marwen shouted to Edward in an attempt to stop Richard. Richard then snatched a bow and arrow from a man on horseback and moved to fling it at anyone over that line. Edward, warned by his loyal squire reached for Richard, grabbed him and threw him off. Richard lunged at Edward. Shouts and roars exchanging like arrows on a battlefield. “They know Ed, they know.” He lunged at him again. Four other men restrained him. “They had SOMETHING TO DO WITH THIS. I know it in my bones.” 

“I told you, Richard. I told you that THIS WAS OVER.” Richard hissed at him and spat from his teeth, sullenly in reply. 

“hold him, make sure he moves not one inch.” 

“FUCK YOU ED.” He yelled. Edward had his back turned on the bellowing bull. “Get me a horse.” 

“Yes my lord.” One of them men shouted. They got him a horse and he rode out into the field with a banner. The banner was not the bristling daggertooth lion of the Greywinds, but the orange banners of Branch Brett. He raised his hands. And they lowered their spears. Black was the color of their armor and helms. Their shields had golden lining embroidered with fire rubies and painted with the five crimson phaedrons and the line of Avyrrian sphinxes at the edges. “Are you Lord Richard of the Branch of Canntheron, lord of Wrathaven and guardian of Wrathmarch?” 

“I’m am Lord Edward of the Branch of Greywind, lord of Windreach and guardian of-

“Enough of your petty titles.” The column spread open. They were probably going to present the king which for the Royal Court is a risky move. Especially with lord Richard flying into a fit of paranoid rage. Instead of the king came a boy who looked just like him. His hair was long and jet black unlike his father. His skin was as pale as the petal of a tally flower. “We all know who you are my lord. How’s your wife?” He asked with that wolfish stare of his. He felt uncomfortable answering that question but the longer he waited was the hungrier this boy’s stare grew. “She is fine my prince.” 

“Where’s Lord Richard? He should be in your company or else.” He snapped his finger and the spears pointed at him ready to thrust. The boy smiled, looking somewhat please at the thought of spears plunging through him. His blood spilling on the floor. “Be careful how you answer my lord.” 

“He is with us but he is badly wounded.” 

“Badly, I don’t think the King would like the sound of that.” 

“It wasn’t us. It was a horde of barbarians. They came from the mountains north of here.” 

“Fimbulhiem.” 

“I have heard they were attacking other farms and villages in the north.” Aereon pointed out. “By the end of this month, I’ll send a force to take care of those savages but for now we must get you safely to the king. It’s almost time for the coronation.” Edward rode back to give everyone the news. Endrew rode back into Brendenton and Edward’s group went with Prince Aereon.

*Phaeus*

Moonlight glistened through the rose mosaic window. The flames atop the candles baked and melted the wax as they swung smoothly upon a chandelier. 

Phaeus held a book, sat on a table and held a lantern to see the text. It was one of the largest books any man has ever held. It was called The Songs of the Realm by Archscholar Retterion. He then took up another book called The Flames of the Phoenix which spoke of the Dargonyan dynasty from the days of Darreon the conqueror which was six hundred years ago. He recalled his mother Queen Saenyra reading that to him when he was but seven years of age. She told him of the Phaedrons; a mixture of a phoenix and a dragon. How the ancient men of the great city of Avyllon used to ride them in the skies and how they were only half the size of the dragons. I would want a Phaedron or a dragon. He remembered saying to his mother. “as glorious as that would be, i'm afraid that is not possible my prince. They’re all dead.” His mother told him.  His brothers were grown into men that time, learning to ride, fight and hunt leaving him and his younger brother Darreon in the palace with his mother. 

He never knew what had befallen his mother. His brother had told him that she hung herself in her room and how it was typical of women to find any way they can to run away from bloodshed and glory. He wanted to say that he was wrong and how kind his mother was to him and how he would never be as strong as she was. 

As hours flipped like the pages on the books he was reading. He went from King Aedon being stabbed by the anonymous men in the street that is now known as Aedon’s River. Next was King Baethron who made a group called “The Enlightened” and killed anyone who did not believe in the gods and sired many bastards by raping the women who enlisted in his ranks. Later one he went to King Balerion the Terrible who drove Branch Bareck and Dester to extinction by utter brutality. 

When he got to The War of The Vile King. He read a small bit of it. A tingle travelled up his spine, giving him an uncomfortable chill. His eyes twitched at every word and is his fingers added to it. They gripped and opened and his eyes glimpsed a sword gleaming in the light from the mosaic windows. Blood cloaked the shining blade, a man lay dead at his feet and his trembling worsened. 

When he touched the crown he was soon to wear; a rage took over him and he threw it, not knowing or thinking of where it flew off to. He just threw it to get it out of his hands. The trembling ceased and he stole the air away with a breath to ease his frayed nerves. Queen Victorya was probably urging him to rest beside her. She thinks that he still needed heeling after Darreon. She was wrong and lying in a bed next to her isn’t going to undo what has been done that night. Nothing will, and nothing shall. He promised that he would never leave him, yet he kept his promise. It was Phaeus himself that made him leave. Every night he thought of that; his hands grabbing a pillow, pressing it upon Darreon’s face and Darreon convulsing, fighting to keep a promise. Maybe at that moment that was all that mattered to him. Only the gods know for certain. He’s in their hands now. 

Thinking of that is halfway heartening, yet nothing beats it like thinking about ripping your way into the heavens and bringing them back. He knew he did not have that power in his hands and he needed no one to tell him that. He's taken countless other lives before including the ones closest to him. 

The door behind him creaked loudly as it opened. Phaeus shone his lantern walking slowly to the sound. As he moved closer another lantern appeared in the dark. “Who’s there?” Phaeus spoke to the man in the dark. “Show yourself.” The lantern dropped. Phaeus moved closer to him. 

“Lord Nymos.” The light revealed him, kneeling to Phaeus. A yellow gleam of light covering him. His silver mask shining against the light like standing statue “What are you doing here?” 

“Your wife would be asking that to you at this hour, Your Benevolence.” He replied, sharply. He stood halfway and stiffly. Phaeus knew he could not touch, for that would mean his end as Pelton Penwell did. He wished he could but couldn’t. Instead Nymos used his cane to stand himself. 

“I was heading to my apothecary until I heard you screaming my future King, and a book flying.” 

“No I just…, I’ve read enough. Thank you My lord” He answered, reluctant to tell him of what troubles his mind. He then limped past him, his cane thumping at the marble floor.  Thump, thump, thump, it went at every step. He then saw the book. Phaeus wondered if he would be able to touch the book again. Nymos nodded his head, raising up his armored hand. “Ah,” He breathed, the breath soft as a pillow. “The Flames of the phoenix, a book fitting for Kings to read. To learn their past mistakes to ensure a bright and successful future. A wise move for a king.”

“I’m not a king, not until the coronation.” 

“Yet, you are sitting at the front seat of the council chambers. You have men of the Honor-Guard marching beside you day and night and now your reading a book on every good and terrible ruler that has blessed and cursed this realm. What do you call that if not a King?” That made Phaeus chuckle, though holding a bit of anger at the fact that the man has a point. 

“A man with a keen interest for politics.” Phaeus jested with an irritable tone. “I don’t know if they came up with another word for it.” 

“your benevolence, may I be frank with you?”

Finally, this vague tongue will only wane my patience. “Go on, my lord of shadows.” 

“You can bury your past as you can dispose of a corpse, but Darreon the Great did not fly with five phaedrons, burn entire armies and cities to the ground six hundred years ago just for his latest descendant to put it to rest.” 

“I know why my ancestor Darreon did what he did. Same as my brother.” Phaeus’s hand balled into a fist shaking like a cup on an unstable table. ”How great he was slaughtering all who opposed him, men, women, even the children. You think I should be proud of my heritage, like my foolish brothers who died in Vhaegar's war. Vhaegar the Vile was a name that suited him well. A name that he earned. This throne itself made from swords, fire  and bone.” 

“Your benevolence, there’s saying for that. All crowns gold or iron, all have a shade of crimson. No king, alive or dead can live and rule without spilling more or less blood” 

“I can. I know I can.” Phaeus said, stubbornly. “My brothers Aereon and Aedon. They fought for greed. They hated my brother as much as the entire realm did and as much as did. They hungered for that throne, for the power that it gave them and they died for it. I’ve seen what that hunger can do to a man. To this day, I’ve never wanted to be a King, blood or no. If I’m going to be one and if the gods see it fit, then I will have no bloodshed.” 

“What if that is something you can’t prevent?” 

“Then all that I can say is may Mortheos, the god of fire cast me in eternal suffering.” 

The Lord-of-shadows then walked to the door and said “this way my future King.” Phaeus followed him. His cane thumping and clicking at every on the marble floor again. They passed the great hall and went to the apothecary. Fingers of the roots of the trees poked out through the stone foundation. Greycap mushrooms and other herbs were surrounding the tree. Light from the lanterns hanging on the ceiling shining upon them all off of the leaves. 

“A month ago you were in here seeing if there was a potion in this world that could cure the former King of his sudden illness.” Nymos reminded him. “Yet the council held sway and you resolved to kill your own brother to secure the Crimson Throne and the realm of Prymerion. What choice did you have? I’m sure your sons, ambitious as they are would see the opportunity to take on such a heavy task.” He may have spoken kindly yet that gave him a shiver riding up his body like a horse. Hands went twitching as he felt himself gripping a sword. “Iron, silver, gold, ivory, jade, emerald or black diamond and ebon-sapphire; crimson covers them all, my king.” 

“Is this the part where you tell me that you know how I feel?” Phaeus said stiffly with a jaw hardened. Phaeus fingers clutched into a fist, ready to act on instinct if provoked. Nymos looked down and up with that look that just says he knows everything you do before you do it. Most of his councilors and his princes say that he could read their minds, hear their thoughts. He touched Phaeus’s hands. He wasn’t allowed to do that, to touch the king whilst bearing a deadly disease such as leprosy. He was only allowed fifty feet away from him. Phaeus only thought of that just now but it didn’t matter. 

”Why should a man not tell another how he is not the only one who has traveled a path where loved ones are lost?” he asked politely, yet Phaeus could not see a smile behind that mask, for it would be at his own peril. “I was a boy of a farming village in the lands. My father owned lands and had friends in Abbayashad and Ramyara in the far east of Essteron. He was paid well by marketers yet had to find other work in the mines. One day on my ninth birthday, a small army of the Servile Cities came marching at the farm. My mother hid me under the floor to keep me safe, as a mother should with their children. The men came in. my mother could not speak their tongue, my father could though yet he was not there. 

“I heard my mother screaming…scared and alone. Being used and…and violated by men who had no love in their hearts for those poorer and lowlier than they are. I then ran out with a fork and stabbed a man in the leg yet he hit me and I fell. My mother…she was…she slain. They put a spear through her throat and they took me as a slave. I served for fourteen years in the city of Ashathar. I played their games, made my schemes, gave my master more gold than he can carry, but he had a price to pay.” 

“What price?” Phaeus asked. 

“Blood. When he set me free I went back and cut his throat open, the same for his wife. I took all of the gold I made him and off I went. I even payed the guards to look the other way. I bought a ship that took me to the Sealed city of Qavanathys. The ship is where I got my illness, a man I was with had it and passed it to me. That’s where I met Lord Varyon as well and here I am.”

“You did not die on the ship?” 

“Varyon had given me potions and medicinal herbs to treat it. It’s still contagious yet I have to keep to the King’s law and I’ll be fine.” 

“Humble, yet bloody beginnings.” Phaeus admired him. 

“Do you think I would’ve been where I am without spilling any blood?” Nymos asked him. Phaeus had nothing else to say. The man was right. He surrendered an agreeing nod. 

“I must have rest my friend, a day that all kings must face has come at last.” Phaeus said to him. Nymos left and closed the door behind him. Phaeus could hear his cane tapping against the floor again. Phaeus then left the room moments after him. He walked through the hall and to his room. The door was opened and he saw his wife, sleeping with a cold bed. That was no longer the case, as Phaeus slipped under the covers and put his arm under the pillow to comfort his head. He sat up looking at the moonlight, thinking of travelling to the east. Maybe he could visit Qavanathys, Lyr, Qovos, Morrothos or even far southeast to the lost city of Avyllon as King Jaeqarhys did during the dark ages. 

Dawn came with a knock on the door. Startled, both Phaeus and Victorya woke to the sound. “My king, your guests have arrived.” 

“Is Lord Richard with them?” He shouted to the guard while still in the bed. “Yes along with Lord Edward, his sons and his squire. There are men from Branch Marrister of Seacastle.”

“His Eldest son too?”

“yes your Benevolence.” 

“interesting...Let them in.” 

“Yes, your benevolence.” Those armored feet clanging against the floor reminded him of Nymos. 

“Shouldn’t he have left behind his eldest son instead of bringing him here?” Victorya asked. “His wife and youngest are left undefended and if it comes to dire times it’ll be hard for them to gather support from other lords.” 

“She’ll have to do her best.” Phaeus replied, putting on a red velvet garb with lines of black and chains and necklaces of gold. A silk crimson cloak with a line of black bear fur was another thing he also donned upon himself along with a silver ring with a red ruby embroidered into it. He opened the door and his Honor Guards stood waiting with lobstered armor of steel, crimson and black leather pads on theirs shoulders with cloaks of the same color. They marched in a column of five rows behind him. He headed to the pantheon at the front of the black palace. He walked through the hall again and the opened the Great Door up ahead. The sun shone upon his brow. Flowers of all different kinds bloomed in the blessing of the light. When was the last time I saw this.  He could not recall other than the time of Darreon’s coronation. 

Phaeus then stood above the Black Stairs. They were much larger than he expected. He looked behind him and saw the black palace, marveling at it as if he saw it for the first time. He marched down the steps. Avyrrian sphinxes stood larger than the ones inside standing at the side of the Throne room door. They were on the edge of the steps ten feet away from each other. He walked down more steps until he got low enough to see his guests, bowing to him.

 “Honored guests, welcome to my palace.” He announced. “You have had a hard and long journey. My guards will escort you to your rooms and my servants will see you fed and bathed for the upcoming occasion of my coronation.” 

“Before you do any of that, your benevolence, do you mind telling us why we were attacked on the road by brigands and thieves AND WHY they were carrying your gold in their pockets.” 

“Lord Richard I do not know what you speak of.” Phaeus answered him, confused with a touch of anger he could not unleash upon the man for it would only risk war. 

Lord Richard grumbled and bristled. “I know it was you Phaeus. I know, and I swear that someone will have to answer for this. I’ll have my vengeance, I know it I KNO- *Thud*. Edward’s armored fist slammed at the back of Richard’s head and he fell. 

“Apologies your benevolence, we were attacked on the road and I have two wounded. My squire and Lord Richard. We seek the help of your Arch-scholar to heal them and we will most definitely attend your festivities.” Edward bowed. His sons, squire and guards knelt as well. 

“Aereon, escort the wounded to the scholar and the guest to their rooms as promised. Lord Edward, I would have a word with you.” 

“Yes, Your Benevolence.” 

*Ti’yerra*

A foundation lay at the middle of the pool with mosaic tiles that drew a lion and a heron. Jade was the panther and the outline was made of Onyx. Her father, Master Varyon had the Jade purchased from sellers in the Jaden lands. The Onyx was from the Biyinkkaro Mountains in the southeast of Ethryos. The heron was lapis lazuli, Onyx, milk-white marble from Portos’s own markets, and rubies mined from the Zharahashadhan, a grand desert at the far east of Essteron. She read about the Zharahashadhan. How the Aerynthian Kings would try to march their way into the desert and how they would most die within a week of starvation and thirst and how the Ishatari Legions would have a crushing victory against them.  

Sunlight was beaming down the atrium. The pool drank and reflected its light. She wore a Lnkiiga, a cotton garment with a brown pattern of rectangles, gold spots running down them and embroidered with silver dots and gems of black diamonds on it. Her skin was ink-black and she had lilac eyes. Her hair was wooly, braided with a double bun updo and a long tail that went all the way down to her back. Before she dipped herself into the pool, she took off her garment and revealed her naked body. Her hips were round and ample as her breasts. Her face smooth, comely and apparently ageless. The water ate her from head to toe. As she floated downward, her hair held up to the surface like a weed in a pond. She then rose from beneath it. The waning sun gleaming against her face. 

“Ti’kkiyerra, come to me, child.” Her mother Rassashaywa said. She was a woman of lighter complexion than her daughter yet taller and leaner than her wearing a Hakanna, another garment much more stylish than what she had. Her hair was wrapped with a blue velvet cloth. Atop of them were large, circular amber ornaments. Her ears were styled with four lobed earrings. Sapphires decorated her mother’s blue velvet cloth. She’s a woman from the Tilymbaya tribe, an Xhaironese tribe with their cities and villages on the western Nibingkaya River. Her mother told her that the garment is known to symbolize maturity in a Tilymbaya village. The Tilymbaya are known throughout Ethryos and Essteron as a very love-based tribe and the most expensive whores to hit a brothel. 

She went to her mother’s call and she was in her room. On her balcony she could see the Sundering Sea to the west. A breeze blew from the sea and channeled through her door. “You are wet, child.” 

“I did not put on my dress, mother.” Ti’yerra came to her mother and kissed her on the cheek. 

“It is a good thing you did not,” Her mother said, with worry. “Your father scoured across the world for the jewels on your dress with great expense to himself.” Ti’yerra sat down on a white, wooden chair with a silk cushion atop the surface. A golden chalice, embroidered with rubies and carved design had been filled with sour pinkberries picked from the great gardens of Sys, blueberries, and black licorice olives from Jairaput and Volloqhor. She ate some while her mother undid her hair for her. She had that hairstyle for seven days. She liked it as she liked all of her hairstyles but it had to be something different this week. She would usually have a paper where she would draw most of her hairstyles in the most unique fashion she could imagine. She then proceeded to ask her father if he will buy it and he did exactly so. 

“Speaking of father, he says he wants me to come to Crown’s Harbor, in the west with jo- 

“I know who he wants you to come with.” Rassashaywa said darkly. “And you know that I do not want you going with that boy.” 

“Josyph, mother I told you mother, it happened a long time ago.” 

“He gave you a dead child in your womb.” Her mother grabbed Ti’yerra’s hand. “You cried and cried, for a whole month.” 

“He came back for me. I did not chose him he just came. Besides, I don’t know if I really wanted to have one.” 

“Oh my girl, you wanted that child.” She knelt down to touch her face. “When it grows in you, the only thing you will ever think of is holding that baby in your arms. He robbed you of that my Ti’kki, My beautiful little girl. In my tribe, there is no greater shame than a man and woman who cannot have a child.” 

Ti’yerra touched her mother’s arm and moved down them softly. Her lips straightened and frowned. Those lilac eyes of her showed a somber face drooping down and pondering. Tears stirred at the bottom of her pointed eyelashes and her purple lips curled to and fro back into a straight face. Yet still the tears began to pour. “Do you think I can have another child, mother?” Her voice cracked when she asked. Her hands touched the bottom of her belly, remembering the pain it took to labor the stillborn baby. 

“Are you…ashamed of me?” Ti’yerra sobbed again. 

Those tear came to Rassashaywa as well. “No, no, no.” She denied it, holding Ti’yerra’s hands close to each other. She kissed her hand and her tears poured on them as well. “You are my daughter. My gift, blessed to me by the love of Anyanwu, mother of the stars. For as long as you live and breathe I will never be ashamed of you.” Ti’yerra then smiled yet still crying. Her mother held her as she did. As her mother held her she thought of Josyph. She saw him standing on the balcony. His long, black locks of hair flashing about at every move like a cloak. 

An hour later her mother had applied oils, shea butter, creams and ointments to anoint upon her hair. After that she took herself to the bathing room. Curtains were silk and crimson. She went inside and took a jug made of clay and dipped it. A thick, white, and milky liquid came pouring out if it. Occaia was the name of the oil, brewed from the Occaia trees in Ethryos. In other cultures it is called the Moonwood lace. Her feet went in first. Then her legs, round hips and breasts until she was almost submerged into the bath. Her eyes closed and opened. When they opened she saw Josyph stepping into the pool. Ti’yerra blinked twice, her fingers trembled and her heart fluttered like wings on a bird. It’s not real, it can’t be. 

Josyph’s hand touched hers and brought her close to her. It felt as real as it ever could. She felt him inside of her. He lifted her up and out of the pool and had her to the wall. He thrusted himself forward hard and fast. Ti’yerra’s head cocked back with moans of pleasure. Josyph thrusted faster, her moans grew louder. Finally, she let out a trembling gasp. She touched his face and asked him. 

“Do you think we can try again? Should I give you another chance?” Josyph said nothing. He only stepped back and vanished away. At that point she knew it wasn’t real. She remembered her mother telling her that in Ethryos, once you share your love with a man or a woman, you will never truly be apart from them. They will be with you in mind, heart, body and spirit as Anyanwu, mother of the stars wills it. You will feel their presence wherever you go. She was right. Ti’yerra could be as farther east as Narrazhai, or the lost city of Avyllon and still feel Josyph near her, inside of her and touching her in every way that gave her pleasure. 

She left the bath and put her dress on to go to the library. She took a book called the east and the stars, a book written by Okuma Qai, an Ethryosi scholar, left the library and began reading the book when she got to the courtyard. Elephant Plum trees, apple crisp orchids and flameblossoms from Majarathar decorated the garden of the courtyard.  Footsteps tapped the stone floor. 

She moved to the garden and looked up to the sky. Suddenly it turned black. She fought against yet did not know what it was. “Mother help me, mother.” She screamed. Unfortunately for her, her mother did not answer her cry. Whatever this was she was now helpless to defend herself from it. 

“Mother.” 

*Marwen*

Marwen was still limping through the hall. Torren and Ellena were carrying him to the room and Tobyn was behind them. Arthur went to see if his father is going to be well with Lord Edward and the Future King Phaeus. Their rooms were in Thaelor’s holdout. King Thaelor had men from across the Sundering Sea build his holdout before he put casks of dragonwine in the sewers to eliminate the lawless Anonymous Men who had his brother King Aedon stabbed in the streets of Crown’s Harbor. Dragonwine was actually a wine that a man can drink yet at a heavy dose it can pose to be lethal.  

Instead of killing the anonymous men, he ended up burning half of Crown’s Harbor, leaving thousands dead. The fire spread to the Black palace yet was not able to burn it down due to it being made out of volcanic rock. They opened the door and put Marwen on the bed. “Drink this and not too fast.” Ellena told him. He grabbed the bottle and dipped it into his mouth little by little. Ellena then tucked him under the covers, cradled his head and placed a silk, velvet red pillow under his head.  Marwen then closed his eyes and reluctantly went to sleep. 

He woke up and saw Torren and Tobyn sitting right next to him. “Once again he’s wakes.” Torren said. 

“If I had a gold crown for every time he fell unconscious, I’d be richer than the Lychesters.” Tobyn jested. 

Marwen lifted himself halfway from the bed and said. “Don’t make me laugh, I only fell unconscious thrice so you’d still be pennies poorer than them.” 

Torren guffawed at Marwen’s remark to the point where he almost fell off his chair. Marwen tried to lift himself from the bed yet felt the pain he had on the journey resurface. They both rushed to him holding him up so he won’t fall. The floor was harder in the Black Palace and Thaelor’s Holdout than on bare soil and grass. “On the chair.” He told Torren. Torren then rested Marwen upon the chair. A knock on the door came sounding off. “My lords,” a man spoke. “Can you open the door my lords, the king has sent me.” Torren stood up to answer the door but Marwen stayed him instead. Torren gave him a look of confusion. 

The knock came again. “I’ll answer it.” Marwen said. 

“You can barely even walk, Marwen. I’ll answer it you rest.” 

“If a lord answers the door instead of a squire, what will they think of us?” Marwen explained to him. 

“To the pits of hell with what they think of us.” Torren’s head went back, his shoulders hunched and he looked aghast. 

“Marwen’s right Torren.” Tobyn agreed. “You’re the eldest son and heir of Edward Greywind. Let Marwen open the door.” The knock banged harder. Tobyn gave Marwen a cane from the Archscholar. Torren sat down, his jaw clenched with his fist. He didn’t want Marwen walking up to the door like that when Torren could easily have gotten it for him. Marwen’s cane tapped the marble as he took step after step. The knock pounded the door once more harder than the last one. Marwen then twisted the golden knob on the door and door opened. 

It was royal herald. He had curly black hair and was much slimmer than Marwen yet an inch shorter than him. He wore a black doublet and green sleeves and brown leather breeches. “You must be Lord Edward’s squire.” The herald asked Marwen. 

“I am.” Marwen answered him, shortly. 

“The Future King and Lord Edward has instructed you to go to the bathing rooms before the Coronation. He wants you finished before the morrow.” 

Marwen nodded his head slowly and replied. “We’ll do as the King commands.” 

“As must we all. Good day my lords.” The herald left the door and Marwen shut the door behind him. Darkness and stars seized the sky from the sun once more. Stars glittered like flowers in the void of space. They walked through the hall again, all the way to the stairs while Marwen’s cane went on making that clicking sound again. They went down the stairs and marwen winced every second of each step. Constant pain striking him as the blow that wounded him. 

Marwen was most thankful when it was over. He willingly let himself but Torren did not allow for him to hit the stone floor face first. Steam flowed through the air from the baths. A whiff if it hit them in the face, warm as a campfire. They came through a curtain on the archway and had Marwen stepping slowly into the bath. After that was when Torren and Tobyn felt free to dive in themselves. 

Laughs and the splashing of water were exchanged among them. That all stopped when a woman came through the curtains. Her hair was long, red, orange and black. A bang covered her left eye. Her right eye was hazel brown. She was a slender and beautiful girl, with firm breasts and wearing a satin dress and ruby earrings dangling upon a string of silver beads. The headdress she donned upon her was made entirely of silver beads and at the sides of them were gilded Avyrrian steel disks. Her beads clanged as she approached them. Their eyes were caught upon her beauty and were further mesmerized when she took off her dress. Her footsteps were as silent as a cat. Her eyes looked like a cat’s eye as well. “You look as men should when they see the beauty of a princess.”  

“You must be Princess Saenyra, second of her name.” Said Tobyn. They stood up from the bath, naked and knelt to her. 

“You’ve seen me before Lord Tobyn.” She said, with that sharp look on her face. “We met when my uncle King Darreon visited Windreach years ago.” Her nails were fashioned red and pink. Her hand went around the back of his hand, caressing it in a provocative manner as if she meant to press his face to her parts. Tobyn seemed not to mind that. In fact, he looked like he was going to pick her up and fuck her right here in the hot bath. Marwen could not help but to chuckle at the thought. 

She heard him and turned her head sharply. She must’ve been offended as she walked to Marwen and lifted his head up with her finger to his chin. “This must be the pet squire. I remember you fetching me wine and scrubbing the table.” 

“Apologies, princess if I’ve offended you.” 

She only laughed at him. “Are all the squires from the north this uneasy? I was only joking with you. By the way, I spotted a flask of wine on you Tobyn.” She then sat beside Tobyn. His eyes widened as her hands were upon his cock and he said “Very sharp you are, princess. I so happen to have it right here.” He showed it to her. “Unfortunately, I don’t have cups.” 

“That’s fine my lord of the winds.” She took the flask and poured it upon her teats. She then had Tobyn’s face smothered on them. “Leave us, I like to…ahh… have some time alone with Lord Tobyn.” Marwen and Torren did exactly so and spent the night trading jests of Tobyn and Princess Saenyra. The day had risen and the bells had rung. 

*josyph*

“Wake up, Josyph.” A woman was calling him. His ears rang like clanging bells. Barely, could he hear the woman’s calling or anything else for that matter.  “Wake up.” Slightly but surely, his vision recovered. Sunlight glared too bright in his eyes. The blur in his vision faded away and cleared up. After Josyph’s vision cleared he saw it was Rayara calling him. Telling him to wake up. He looked around and saw that he was lying on a silk bed with a velvet red blanket. The blanket had an outline of gold with small strings. The same colorful lanterns that you would see in brothels in Anthos were dangling from the ceiling. Josyph leaped at her to hug her thankful to see her again. The last thing he remembered was being knocked out by a stranger in a hood. 

Pondering in memory, He saw the man that one time when he left the House of Roses. The stranger was stalking him on the streets. Josyph ran and hid from him, yet the man must’ve known that Josyph was not the kind of man to follow. “Are you alright?” Rayara asked him, he was a bit rattled at the moment to answer the question. 

“Where is he?” Josyph was still thinking of the stranger. He had something to do with this. He knows something. Something that Josyph needs to know. Probably something that Rayara and Thurick knew. He pushed them aside frantically swinging his head to and fro. Sweat drenching on his face, making his black skin gleaming in the sunlight. “You mean the Ethryosi. The one who kidnapped us as well, he said he was getting you, and now you’re here. A man of his words he is.” Thurick made a clever remark, slightly angering Josyph and for most men that is not the wisest move to make. Yet they all were as confused and frustrated as Josyph. Josyph’s hand was to his head, thinking too much. 

“How long was I out?” Josyph asked, more gentle. Rayara approached him. “Two days.” She told him. “He was here. He said that he left for Portos and has been gone for same time you’ve been knocked out.” An idea forged in his head. “Ti’yerra, Ti’yerra’s in Portos.” Josyph blurted out, growing ever more frightened.

 “We know. He’ll bring her back alive just as did you, you’ll be fine.” 

“Does he even know that?” Thurick said snide as ever. Rayara stood up and brought a fist to his jaw. The punch so hard it brought him to the stone floor. Vague were their answers. All of them. No longer did he have the patience for them. I expected better of you sister. He thought but did not tell her. Instead he balled his hands to fists and rose from the bed throwing the covers in the air. Josyph’s lips tightened and his jaw accompanied. His fist went to his lips and he then put his head into his hands, shaking it in some sort of defeat. “Whoever the fuck he was, the only thing he told us to do is to stay in these gardens. We asked him why and…ha…funny story, he tells us that he plans to retrieve the rightful prince.”  Thurick rolled his eyes, gesturing his fingers in quotation. “Since you’re here then you must be this said “rightful Prince”. 

“Prince. Prince of what?” Josyph doubted himself. “What am I fit to rule over.” Rayara raised her head and blurted out “Prince Varradhar.” Rayara’s answer struck surprise to them. “Father said he was slain by King Taggharo during their rebellion. He told me that he adopted you to take back the throne. At least that’s what father told me. What else could it be?” Josyph gave her a queer and disgusted look. He never told me that, he only had me do his dirty work. His hand s turned to fists. His face aghast. Imagining being a King was strange to him. Ruling over a nation after all the things he’s done in this world. All he’s ever done is fuck whores, drink, fight and kill. Following was the only thing he knew. Leading was another story to him. Yet most Kings do that as well. Maybe, in order for a man to lead then he must first follow. 

Yet he was still nonplussed. Everything that everyone is saying is all but possibility. Denying it gave Josyph a slight bit of comfort yet grew his curiosity all the more. Attempting to rest his growing curiosity he said “Let me make this clear. I am no prince, I am no king. Nor do I want to be. I want to know who is up to this. This must be a trap, a ruse, something. Find him, question him, fuck, torture him if you must but I want answers.” 

“Demanding and absolute, as a king should be.” Thurick remarked. The man could not hold his tongue if it came to saying something that would provoke a man to anger. “Apologies, my prince but i don’t see the point of that since he said that he would return.”

Rayara punched him in the chest for that. “Can you not do that?” he asked, blood still on his mouth and pain blazing on his chest.  

“Can you not be an asshole?” She replied. Thurick only chuckled at her. 

They were not helping him. His mind was whirling like draining water. Maybe a moment alone would do him some good. Help him clear his mind. He peered out of the window and looking outside seemed relaxing to him. Thinking of the breeze of the southern winds that come from the Sea of Serpents made him leave the room. Pain went to his head. Hs ears rang for a bit and flash of memory came to him. It was when the man had him on the ground and kicked Josyph across the face, knocking him unconscious. Then he remembered killing the Ishatari soldiers who were trying to capture him. He took the stairs that twirled all the way down. It took him a while to get down since the stairs were quite a long walk. Dotted marble floor sat abundantly as grass and ferns do a forest. Outside of the manse were pots that were spotted with growing moss and vines that bloomed with flowers of their own. Marble was quite sodden from pouring rain and cracked paint chipped from each part of the structure. Six pots had the yellow butterfly flowers that hail from the Raining Isles and the Ruby roses of the city of Qadarth and. He was at the city gardens. There he could see the sea but could not tell which one it. The Sea of Serpents or The Leather Sea, he did not know. 

Sungracer Palm trees stood at a line in the bottom and wide flower pots were graced with palm bushes with reddish-orange clusters. “Were in the gardens.” He guessed correctly. Gazing at the sea he could not help but think of a fleet of four hundred ships arriving at the docks. Most of the sealed cities were not from the back since they maintain peace by trade. Reasons being that most of the Sealmasters get most of their money from the Gryffon bank and slave trade, although they are not slave cities. It has been over six thousand years since they’ve had a real war in Essteron. No one is ready for a fight and city won’t have the men to stop them. 

Thurick approached him. “We didn’t have a choice, Josyph.” I know my tongue got out of hand back there but truthfully I do not know what the fuck is going on.” 

“Well my friend, know this.” Josyph pointed at the ocean. A look of worry carved on his face. “There will be a fleet of ships covering this sea. Laugh at this if you will but Pazal managed to find a way to gain an army and a title of nobility among the Servile families.” 

Thurick laughed as Josyph sd he would. “Pazal…with an army.” 

“Yes, he is now an honored edition to the noble dominion of Bezzak.” Josyph spoke in a defeated tone. 

“The gods have truly fucked us.” Thurick said with a chuckle. “I’m guessing they’ll sack this city and take us as slaves if they find us. I could say that you should warn the city council if you an honorable man.” 

“Yet, I am not. You, I and our employer know for a fact how much trade the Sealmasters do with the far eastern cities due to our travels and missions.” 

“The higher ups are always in on it.” 

“In on what?” Rayara approached them, overhearing half of their conversation. “Pazal fucked us and now he has the backing of the Ishatari Legions.”

“Who will be here in three days.” That shocked both of them. Thurick looked less surprised than Rayara did. Rayara ripped out her Khattar and said “Let them try and put me in chains. I’ll cut the fuckers to the point they’ll have to kill me.” 

“You’ll do no such thing- 

-pardon me,” 

“No such thing.” Josyph gave her a stern look. “Both of you will go to Portos, get Ti’yerra and buy a ship to sail you to Crown’s Harbor to the west. Have her tell your father of Pazal, the Ishatari legions, of everything.” Rayara only bore a sullen face. Her fists clutched to her weapon as if she was ready to strike him. Josyph saw it a mile away, caught her hand, and went up close to her and their brows kissed. “You are like a sister to me, I’d kill for you as you would for me, but this is my responsibility. I will not see you or your sister suffer for my actions.” Rayara hugged him, tightly as she did when she was a child. She’s as strong as any man he’s ever known.

“A touching moment for the both of you.” Thurick made a snide comment. “Do you mind seeing this?” They looked below the balcony and saw a two file column marching down the gardens. Their armor scaled bronze, painted black and green along with iron helms and shields. Their swords were made of iron as well. All of them had dyed, green lion pelts embroidered in emeralds. “These are men of the Qharri tribe.” Rayara pointed out, confused. The Xhaironese would usually have a steel chest plate with black and white diamonds styled on the outer lines of it and scales of gold on the shoulders. Footsteps were heard from behind. Josyph turned around and saw the same hooded man. The presence of the man sent a twitch to Josyph’s eye. His fists balled up. He went up to the man stomping, raised his fist and struck the man in the jaw. The man fell and josyph went in for another strike but the man stood on one arm, sprung up and his feet made a bloody kiss to his chin. 

Josyph went reeling back until he hit the stone railing of the balcony. He lunged at the man with another blow. He blocked it along with storm of blows josyph swung furiously at him. The man then spun around him, wrapped his hands to his waist and shoulders and threw him the ground. Josyph got back up and unsheathed his Khattar. The man turned around, leaped up and his foot landed on josyph’s shoulder where he went behind him and threw him so hard that he went hanging of the edge of the balcony. A sense came to josyph. He did not want to die yet he did not want to be afraid to die. He needed his arrogance to shroud his fear as he asked himself what was the better option. To fall and die or to find out what all this is about. His hands were slipping. Time was running short. The man then came to the balcony and asked “Are you ready to trust me now Josyphar?” reluctant and desperate to know more, he nodded his head and the man extended his to Josyph. Josyph grabbed it and he pulled Josyph up. Rayara and Thurick were helping him as well. “Let go of me.” He wrenched off of them. A cloud of anger hanging over him. 

“Who are you?” He stared at him with a dark, sullen face. The man only laughed and leaned on his javelin, touching at the tip. “I thought that you were ready to trust me.” 

Josyph wanted to run at him and hit him again but he knew how that would turn out. “You’ll have to do more than kicking me off a balcony if you want that.” 

“You do not even know who you are? Or who I am” the man looked shocked and saddened for some reason. Guilt seemed to mark his words. “I bet that you’ve been wandering that all of your life. If I’d told you sooner, I didn’t know how you would feel about it.” 

“About what? A stranger hooded and cloaked kidnapping me and my friends out of the blue.” 

“About who you are, and what you are going to be.” 

“AND WHAT AM I GOING TO BE?” 

“I think that I may know?” Rayara interfered in the conversation. Josyph looked at her, awaiting her answer. “Father told us. He said that you were the heir to King Oqunta and Prince Varradhar of the Vabari Clan. Father said that he was slain by King Takkaharro during his rebellion. At least that is what father told us.” 

“Prince Varradhar is our father.” A woman added in the conversation. “He’s been disguising himself to gain foothold on the Aerynthian Seal for years.” Her skin as dark as Josyph’s. Her hair was wooly and shaped like a great brown bush.  She didn’t have time to do her hair. “Ti’yerra? What are you doing here?” Josyph was astonished. How was she here? She must know, or planned this. All he can do is hear her out. He went to her, hugged her and they kissed. 

“Ti’yerra, do you know who this is?” He asked her. 

“He’s trying to help you, Josyph.” She told him. “He has something that you need to know. You have to listen to him. My father has lied to you and us for our entire life. You deserve to know the truth.” He then turned to the man again. 

“Well, what is this truth that you plan to tell me, hmm? Something that you could’ve told me long ago instead of hiding in the shadows.” 

“It was not the right time then. Now it is.” He justified himself. “Josyphar, hear my words as they seep through your ears. Listen to them and heed them well. My name is Prince Nokkhoro Qara, son of Takkaharo Qara, King of the Qharri and the Xhaironese but this day will mark it to be his end. I am your father Josyphar, and you are my son. Your name is Josyphar Qara, and you will be our new king for you are Ekija Bejaka, The-King-to-be-chosen. “The thought was like having to swallow a barrel of rocks for Josyph. A knot tied in stomach and his head began to twirl. It was big, really big for him to have that title given to him. All the things he’s done in his life. He’s killed men beyond counting as a Hirelord. Fought in the fighting pits with them, beating them like animals, drunk and fucked all the whores in the Sealed Cities in his. After all of that, and his ancestors reward him with a crown upon his head.  Yet, he still could not help but think why this was not given to me earlier. “A kingdom, robbed from me.” He said in a gloomy, disappointed tone. “Something I could’ve had earlier in my life, my grandfather didn’t steal it from me. You did. Varyon did as well and you did it by lying to me. How am I supposed to trust you now?” 

“I need time to think on this.” Josyph said. 

“You don’t have time, you must act.” 

“Well, I will make time.” 

“Josyphar,” He shifted to him, fast as wind. His hand on Josyph’s shoulder. “Your Grandfather knows that you are the chosen king. You have been contesting with his rule ever since you were a baby. We have three thousand men and he has eight thousand. He will find you and if you are not ready, he will kill you. Go in that room as a boy, BUT FOR THE SAKE OF YOUR ANCESTORS, come out of there a man.” 

Josyph did not respond to him. He only went off to his room with resentment. The door slammed shut behind him and he sat on the bed of red velvet blankets. A feeling of being lost struck him. Like he’s been falling down the same hole his entire life and a shadow has been lifting him up every time he fell.  I am not fit to be a king, he said. His life was a lie and that shadow was his father His father a shadow lurking in the streets and alleys bearing the regret he deserved. He didn’t deserve to spill his seed into my mother or any other woman, his ancestors should’ve stripped him of manhood. Yet all the fights and travels he’s been at. He wasn’t just fighting and he was not just sailing. He was searching for something, a purpose for his existence and it found him. Sadly it had come of late. Maybe deep down, he wanted to see his father. His words may speak resentment, yet he himself says that he just wants to know him. 

 As for Varyon or Prince Varradar or whatever his name was he did not know what to think of him. He knew how deceitful he was at times but did not guess that it could go this far. Something in him felt as though it already knew a long time ago. Hours had passed. The day was turned into night. You don’t have time, you must act. Taggaro will kill you if you are not ready, he remembered his acclaimed father saying to him. He was right and his grandfather was not the only problem on his hands. The Ishatari legions will be marching on the Diamond Gates of Anthos. Their ships will burn the docks and the whole city will be destroyed. Men, women and children will be ripped from their beds and taken as slaves, including him. He has Pazal and his greed to thank for that. Wait, what if…

A knock came to the door. “Josyph, it’s me.” Said Ti’yerra. “Open the door, please.” 

Josyph got up from the bed and opened the door for her. She came gliding in with a Biyakke, a purple dress with gold on the outline of it and a shirt that covered only her breasts and half of her stomach. when it came to Josyph being stubborn Ti’yerra was always the one to lower his defenses. “I know that must’ve been hard for you to hear but you should know that he regrets deeply lying to you. I want you to know that…”

“-Ti’yerra, stop.” He cut her off. Laying those big hands upon hers, softly. “Your father lied to me and you and my father lied to me. We are now the children of great liars.” 

“One greater than the other.” Ti’yerra joked. They both laughed at each other. Josyph then dug in his pocket and fished out a bag of coin. “What’s this?” 

“I want you to go west, to Crown’s Harbor. Where your father is.” 

“I could be with you.” 

“The more you are with me is the more that your life will be in danger. Go and tell your father. He has ties going from east and west, the Servile Cities most of all. If three thousand swords can’t handle the Gryffon’s shadow then Varyon will clear the skies with a tongue of silver, as most men are fond of telling me at brothels” 

“Words are weapons. I wonder who taught you that?” 

“A beautiful person with beautiful words.” Josyph said in a charming tone. “Being a king, how to handle that I don’t know.”

“Some kings do and some kings don’t. You have to find that out for yourself.” She told him. “You do what you’ve been doing for years. You fight as you always have.” She lay a kiss on Josyph’s chiseled cheeks. A flutter stirred in him and he caught her by the hand and their lips touched. He let go only to touch lips again. Passion raged in him when he lied her gently on her back. He was then trying to undo her dress. She assisted him, vigorously and after they got off the dress he entered her. He thrusted fast as his hands firmly squeezed her breasts. His groans grew louder and louder. It felt like fire brewing inside of her , burning his manhood and it kept him going and going. She then wrapped her arms and legs around him, caressing his head which provoked him even further until he let out a loud groan which caused him to spill his seed inside of her. 

Another hour passed until they rose. He felt different after he left the room. Not from making love to Ti’yerra but something else. Go in that room a boy, but come out of that room as a man. Nokkhoro told him. Yet, he was more than a man. He was a king now. He had to be and now there no turning back for him. Josyph went to the balcony peering at the moon. Nokkhoro came to him. “I guess that I should get used to calling you father, then.” Josyph said with a smile. When he saw Nokkhoro he felt complete. Like a sense of closure for once in his life. 

“It will take time my son.” Nokkhoro told him. “I always saw myself as a man of honor, but what after what I did to you I relieve myself of that mantle. You had every right to be angry at me for coming in your life like this. Disrupting it. My grandfather Komurra the fourth of the Komurryan Dynasty always told me that there is a difference between a father and a parent. A father only births a child. A parent takes care of them and is always there for them. ” 

“You had no other way of doing that. “ Josyph spoke solemnly. “It’s the way it is. You had no choice, but I don’t need to have pity for you. You don’t need my forgiveness because there’s nothing to forgive, father. I should be honored, to be a son of a warrior and a king. Tell me, when my grandfather comes what is your plan. He has three thousand and you have eight thousand.” 

“Kijanyakaro.” Nokkhoro said in Ethryosi. “We don’t have to fight his men. All we need to do is fight him. Sije me kyama, single combat. I will fight him first and then if I die you should fight him.” 

“And what if he refuses and decides to slaughter us anyway.” Josyph asked, doubting the plan. 

“It is a test of honor.” Said another warrior. He was bald with beads in the shape of a square on his brow. He wore a U robe of green with lines of black and yellow that covered one of his breasts. Emeralds were embroidered on his robes as well. He was taller than Josyph and Nokkhoro and his voice was much deeper. “If he denies it, then his men will see him for the old cunt that he is and that will only make things easier for us to stick a spear in his belly.” 

Hs father went to hug the man “Brother Oqorro. How have you been, training the new warriors?” 

 “Some have failed and some have passed.” He said laughing. “I still have more from the Kolo clan that need training. Two hundred at best. This must be my nephew, the prince-that-was-chosen.”

“I am.” Josyph said stiffened. “So then why do need me to go with you?” 

“A curious boy you are, and with so many questions.” 

“You get the questions when you don’t have a father to answer them in your life.” 

“I need you because if I die, then I’ll need you to fight him, and if you win then you’ll take the throne that you are born to. If you should die as well then… 

“You don’t have to say it.” Josyph cut him off, frightened to think of what it be like to lose. From what he has heard Taggaro is a fierce and determined warrior and cruel as well as strong. All qualities which really seem equal to Josyph’s. “I should sleep tonight, tomorrow seems like a long day ahead and full of possibilities.”

*Edward*

The bathing rooms were hot and steamy. Fingers of wet smoke reached to seep bits of water into the ceiling. Bubbles brewed inside of the bath. Edward dipped the soap into the water and had himself bathed for the coming coronation of King Phaeus. He closed his eyes and heard the screams of his men dying near the duct. Swords clashed and clanged. Fire mingled with bark and wood. Richard screamed with an arrow in his leg and Marwen with axe in his ribs. “Help us,” The voices spoke. “Help us. Help us, help us.” Edward woke from it splashing the water and throwing his about in a fit of rage. He bellowed loudly and hung his head in his hands clutched unsteadily to his brow. 

He threw them off to allow himself to pant. Uncomfortable with being comfortable, he stepped out of tub to dry himself and put back on his attire. He lay on his bed but did not sleep.  He remembered Phaeus saying that he would have words with him on the morrow. So he waited from night to day. When the day came two Honor Guards came to his door. “Lord Edward. The King has summoned you to go to the apothecary. Immediately.” 

Lord Edward bowed and donned his clothes before he walked out of the door. He could’ve had Marwen assist him in the matter but he always stubbornly said this to himself, I know how to put on my own damn clothes. Since Marwen is wounded he can’t be of much service. A lady must learn to put on her own clothes, he remembered telling his wife and his daughter at one point. He could not help but to think of how helpless they are going to be if the Mountain Men lay siege to Windreach and their Lord Father and Husband is not there to protect. These festivities would take until the winter and the end of the year to end. If anything were to happen to them he would not have that time to act. 

Pots of sungracer palms from Noroth and blue orchids lay next to every doorstep. In front of him was the Great Black Door. A massive door made of iron that let you into the throne room. He walked to the right of the hall and stood below a mosaic floor. Further on he saw an old man speaking to Phaeus. He must’ve been the archscholar. Who else does he know in the Black Palace with a snow white beard like that? “My King.” Edward approached the king. 

“Lord Edward.” Phaeus’s face carved a welcoming smile on him as they embraced each other with a hug. 

“The winds seem to have edged your face, old friend.” Phaeus made a joking compliment. Edward chuckled lightly at the remark. “My blood was not meant for the hot summer that south is blessed with, Your Benevolence.” Edward replied, his head hanging down. “Storms come, and the winds are part of them.” Phaeus nodded in agreement.

 “My sons preach to me those words often, yet they presume to stir up a different storm.” Phaeus says the winds have edged Edward’s face. Yet, sitting on a hundred foot throne carved of flesh, blood and bone and attending countless council meetings would edge any man alive. Edward could’ve said that but jokingly or no that would’ve been taken as an insult. 

“They’re not the only ones who seek such a goal, Your Benevolence.” Said Edward. “I’ve been dealing with him all through the road.” 

“I’m sure he made a rather pleasant traveling companion.” 

“I doubt it.” Edward smiled at his answer. 

Phaeus’s lips straightened as he leaned to wall. “The Mountain men, Richard said that they were paid by me to kill you all. What I want to know is if you or your vicinity believe such folly.” 

“All I know, your benevolence is that the purse was on them and someone here does not want us to arrive.” Edward could not have told him much more. He had some suspicions but it was safer for him to keep those to himself. Outright accusing the king of such treason, he knew where that will lead to. His family may have been far in the north yet that would not stop King Phaeus from doing as his father King Vhaegar did. 

“I forgot to ask your benevolence how your brother King Darreon died.” Phaeus’s eyes widened at the remark. He seemed unsteady as his hands were brushing his garments whilst shaking about. His hands then strangely clutched into a fist with his eyes twitching. Edward was taken aback at his response. It was his brother that the realm knows well but that screamed more guilt than sorrow. Phaeus was always a man to carry guilt ever since the day he took his father’s head and flung him from the Red Tower. Did he…? No he could not have. 

“It was a…it was a fever. It came and went.” Phaeus rubbed at his eyes and face, smearing the tears across his eyelids. 

“I apologize, Your Benevolence I will take my leave if… 

“No, no you’re fine.” Phaeus looked down. His hand caught Edward’s. “I just need time to answer that question. I don’t even know how it happened. He was coughing, wheezing, spitting out blood. We tried feeding him but he would not eat. How? Why? He was a king loved by all. A good king, the exact image that a king should be like my great grandfather who lived for a hundred years. He was brave when he needed to be. Skilled with a sword as King Duncan the Good. Fought battles and won tourneys. He did every good things that the gods demanded of any man to do and what does he get out of it? To die a withered, sickly wretch.” His fist balled up, rose and pounded a wall hard. Shuttered breaths puffed from the king’s nose. Phaeus’s fire-like hair bristled at every breath. “Tell me Lord Edward, how am I to be as strong as my brother was. How am I to be good and true as him? I am king now, and it’s clear to me that the gods never considered that at all. They sit there laughing at us from the stars, making us play these games with ourselves.” 

“Pardon me for saying this, my king but King Darreon was not going to live forever.” Edward said, grimly. “Even King Vhaegar the immortal was not that immortal.” 

“All men must die, as man is wont to say.” Phaeus repeated as grimly as Edward. “I just want to rule with peace. If I have to chop a few heads off or burn an entire village. So be it. The realm, the dynasty must hold. Pray excuse me Lord Edward, I must prepare to feel the weight of a crown on my head.” 

Edward bowed as Phaeus took his leave. He entered the room where the archscholar was brewing countless concoctions for more than just Richard’s wound. “Lord Edward.” He scrambled about, breaking half of the flasks and mortar and pestle made of marble. Edward went to help him but he refused only to clean it himself. He was an old man with long white hair and a spotted face. He walked with a staff that was seemingly supposed to be a cane. At the tip of it had a pointed ruby on it that glowed in the light it drank from the lantern hanging from the ceiling. The man knew he was here to see Richard so he said. “Bands of silk coated with Thornberry paste and three cups of Nectar of the Tally, and if you plan on waking him I would suggest not.” The old man gave him a necklace. “Here, throw it away.” Edward wanted to know why so he peeped in the bag and out came a smell as horrid as the Crimson throne. 

Rotten flesh and dusty finger bones were in the bag. He knew why. Phaeus was suddenly riding to Richard’s camp during the war of the vile king. Richard had him tortured and maimed. He had two of his fingers cut off with an axe on a table. Edward betted that he planned to present it to Phaeus’s coronation as a slight. This is starting to become a game for children. Someone takes something and they cry when it gets taken from them. Edward thought, bitterly growing ever more tired of Richard’s trifles. The royal court pays him and all the lords in the realm more than enough gold. The lesser lords have become more prominent than before. King Darreon gave them knights and more men-at-arms than they can count or feed. For seventeen years we’ve had peace despite how much the lords resent him for the Treaty of Relief. Richard might as well be marching on Crown’s Harbor by himself with an invisible army, invisible trebuchets, catapults, siege towers and ladders. An army of anger, hatred, ill regard for the consequences and ignorance. He has been at this for years and if it hasn’t started a war yet, then it will not now. If the gods are good they’ll keep it that way. 

He took his leave from the apothecary and met with prince Aereon again. They bumped into each other as Edward was walking down the hall. His eyes moved, looking at him like a hawk when it spots a rabbit. “Lord Edward.” His smile was as calm as it was unnerving. “Prince Aereon. How do you fare after the road?” Aereon smiled again, closing in all the same. 

“Just fine, remember. I had an army not a straggling band of rabble like you and that fat beast of a man.” Edward stood nonplussed at his answer. It was only natural for a prince to be as snobby and pompous as he was. Yet, there is something unnatural about that boy. Not the best introductions for a member of the Royal Branch to make. Especially since every Lord is a string’s cut away from fighting a war. “I bet he’s in there bleeding and snoring. Uhh, even in bedrest the man still manages to be unpleasant. Tell me my lord, have you been hunting.” 

“Yes my-

“And when I mean hunting. I mean you BE the hounds. You smell what they smell. You eat what they eat. Oh, oh let me tell you, we hunt for more than just deer my lord of the winds.” Aereon stopped for a moment just to tell that he never had a “thrilling” experience as he did. What do you mean not for… he didn’t even want to know what crude image stirred in his mind, or what he meant or anything he was going on about. And he though Richard’s fingers were bad. He felt Aereon’s eyes crawl in his skin, squirming from the inside. The thought of the ripples brought a jolt through his body. “My prince may I be excused.” Edward was crossing his fingers a bit on the chance that he may further unnerve him. But he only laughed with that wolfish grin of his and as Edward left him he was still laughing. “Oh gods yes you are excused lord Edward.” A girl said, interrupting Prince Aereon. “Excuse my brother. When he comes from the trees he likes to boast about his-trophies. He goes on and on about them. It makes me go nauseous when I eat a steak or two.” She whisked him away from Aereon, crossing her arm with Edward’s.  Her hair was covered by a headdress of silver beads and Avyrrian steel discs ear-to-ear.  

Edward remembered her from Darreon’s visit to Windreach. She was a little girl holding the young Prince Darreon, fourth of his name when he was but a babe at the queen’s breast. She walked him down the hall where the left wing gate that led to Thaelor’s holdout was. Two honor guards stood at the door. Saenyra snapped her fingers and the guards pressed the gate open. Outside were men with roughspun tunics plowing the earth that rested beneath marble pot stained and aged with moss. Women wore wimples and green and red tunics of linen, reading their books on stone benches. “By the way some of them may be spies.” She warned Edward. “The maids and charwomen scrubbing your floors, washing your clothes. Coal boys, stable boys, stonemasons, the walls have eyes here Wind Lord.” 

“And so do I, princess.” Edward retorted. “I plan to use them well.” For all the good I will do me. He bowed and she took her leave. Thaelor’s Holdout was covered in darkness. On the sconces were unlit torch and a rock of flint. He scraped it against the mossy stone resting ‘twixt the mortar outline. Five fingers of fire danced atop the flattened tip spitting out tendrils of flame that made a golden shield against the darkness. He slipped for a bit and found out that he was at the stairs that led to the bathing rooms. Turning around he knocked at every door hoping for Marwen, or Tobyn and Torren to answer. A door opened. It was to the right. 

“Hello.” A soft familiar voice called out. 

“Marwen.” Edward called back. He saw the light shine out of the open door. At first he wondered why it had to be so bloody dark in here. Then he remembered his father telling him that King Thaelor had an underground chamber that was said to have been made of volcanic Avyrrian stone. It was made in case the fire from the dragonwine spread the Black Palace. A man would be thankful enough to be in any of these rooms. Considering how dark it was out there in the hallway. Marwen staggered, nearly dropping to the floor. Edward rescued him, hooking his arm under marwen’s chest. “They haven’t healed yet haven’t they?” All he could say was that he was doing better than Richard was. 

“No…ah…no my lord.” Marwen kept wincing as he tried to rest his back on the headboard. The silken pillows were drenched in his fevered sweat. “Did you find out who paid the mountain men?” 

“No. I did not. You might want to be careful on how you answer that question.” 

“Yes my lord.” 

“If you want specifics, then I asked Phaeus but he says that he doesn’t know either. Believe it or no. I will not forget that, lad.” Edward said solemnly. “You risked your life for me. You were brave, you hear me. I will repay that debt” 

“I don’t know if I could call it bravery. I did what I did and…I, I did it. A simple squire and I didn’t even know what I was doing or who I was at that moment.” 

“You weren’t a simple squire then.” Edward had his arm around marwen, holding him close. “That’s what bravery is lad, facing a daunting task despite the fear that grows in you. That stirs in your belly like boiling soup. You want to leave, you want to run yet, something consumes you. So you can’t run from, you can’t hide from it. It only consumes. You only go forward, your sword cuts through a sea of blood and flesh. Sooner than later that’s all you see. That’s all it comes down to. Blood and flesh. I know this Marwen and I know it well. I taught you, my wife, sons and my daughter this as well. A storm is coming. It could be anything. A war, the winds, the rain, winter, famine, plague, wrath of the gods, all of it is a storm a man must face. And I will ask you this lad, are you ready to face it.” 

Marwen hung his head down, with a dark, somber look on his face. It was a hard thing for a boy his age to swallow. His lips were tightened. Reluctantly he raised his head and he nodded. No “yes, my lord.” Or any other courtesies. Just a simple nod. That’s what I want to hear. 

“I’ll talk to you after the coronation feast. Remember not to trust anyone here.” Marwen nodded his head again and Edward took his leave.