by Chuck Black
The Life Spice thrived in Arrethtrae and soon brought healing and good health to all of the people. It grew everywhere—in the cities, on the hills, and in the valleys. Cities were rebuilt; crops were planted; trade prospered. Roads were built, and places of learning were established to teach many the knowledge of the Prince, which seemed inexhaustible. Every corner of Arrethtrae reaped the benefits of prosperity brought to the land by the Prince’s reign. It was a golden era that far surpassed even the glory days of Quinn.
Chessington became the hallmark of greatness in Arrethtrae. It became known as the Beloved City of the King. The palace of the Prince gleamed in its brilliance, testifying to the fact that a grand and noble man reigned over the kingdom. The Prince loved His people, and they loved Him. I remembered that day many years ago, before the great battle, when the Prince had first come to Arrethtrae. I had watched Him care for hungry, dirty children in the streets of Chessington. I would never forget the tears that flowed from His eyes as He felt compassion for the hopeless. I had watched a tear fall from His noble cheek and into the dust of the land. I now knew that He saw the pain of the people and yearned for the future He could bring them. That tear had watered land that would one day burst forth in abundance under His tender care. This was that day—a day of abundance!
The threat of corrupt deeds by evil men was nearly eliminated. Talea and I traveled without the protection of other knights now, and we could move from region to region much faster. The challenge of our mission to mediate and resolve conflict diminished. We now mostly carried progress reports and news from city to city, as well as mandates from the Prince. I enjoyed most of it, for it was a way to see my friends numerous times throughout the year.
Talea and I became companions in an odd sort of way. With long distances to travel and no one else to talk to, we began to understand each other better … at least as friends. I learned to keep a healthy separation between us emotionally, simply because I knew she wanted it that way. But as hard as I tried, I could not ignore my feelings for her. I kept them closely under guard, however, for I was not sure that she would ever feel the same about me. In fact, I occasionally wondered if she didn’t desire our mission to end so she would not have to spend so much time with me. Yet she softened a little over time, and I saw her smile at me more and more. Those were the moments I cherished. Overall I felt awkward—I had never felt this way about a lady before. Unfortunately, I had no one to turn to for guidance. I could not figure Talea out or how I was supposed to feel. This nebulous thing called love seemed so easy for some, but for me it was like trying to sail without the wind.
One aspect of our relationship was not difficult to figure out however. I came to trust Talea completely. She had Leinad’s wisdom and Tess’s uncanny discernment … and more. She had learned the ways of the Silent Warriors well and used them to aid me whenever possible. She was invaluable to me as an ambassador in many regions and cities.
The Prince had decreed that a feast was to be held each year in the grand city of Chessington to celebrate the day of victory for the people. Invitations were extended to every man, woman, and child in the kingdom. At the first feast, there was much pomp and ceremony, with delicious cuisine from all across the land. The great Chessington Valley was temporarily transformed into a grand courtyard so that all who wanted to could attend. The feast of celebration lasted five days. At its conclusion, a small goblet of bitter wine was given to all who desired to seal themselves to the King. The Prince stood upon a high platform for all to see.
“People of Arrethtrae!” His noble voice echoed down the valley for all to hear. “You are the heart of the King’s kingdom. The depth of Our love for you cannot be measured. We have overcome the Dark Knight, and this is a time to remember Our victory!”
The valley erupted to cheers of adoration. The Prince waited for quiet to return.
“Today we celebrate that victory. The wine in your cup is bitter. Do not drink it if your heart is not completely the King’s. To drink unworthily is unforgivable. We drink this bitter wine as a vow to remember the destruction that living without the Code will bring. It will seal you to the King and to Me forever.”
The Prince lifted His chalice high into the air. “One King, one Prince, one Code. The King reigns … and His Son!”
Thousands of voices lifted into the air and repeated the words of the Prince as they drank from their goblets of bitter wine. It was difficult to swallow, for it was indeed bitter. With one swallow, my cheeks became flush and my stomach was upset. The taste lingered long afterward. Some did not drink, for they had come only for the celebration. Without a heart completely sewn into the fabric of the Code, the King, and His Son, there was nothing to compel one to drink the bitter wine.
What a strange way to end the feast, I thought. But who was I to question the Prince?
After the celebration at the Beloved City of the King, each city hosted a celebration feast for those who could not attend at Chessington. The prefects and governors were all given the bitter wine to offer at their feasts as well. Those who drank were sealed to the King and the Prince.
At the third feast, William announced his engagement to Kendra, and I rejoiced with him.
After the fifth feast, Talea was called to embark on ambassador missions on her own. She and I were each assigned assistants. It did not take long for me to grow lonely for her. Even though I had struggled with repressed feelings, in my heart I desired to be near her. However, each year we joined together again to travel to the northern regions of the kingdom just before the yearly feast. Our separation during the year seemed to soften Talea’s heart toward me, for which I was thankful, but I expected her to eventually find someone to marry since I did not appear to be the one for her. With each year that passed, I was thankful it never happened. I looked for a wife, but my eyes always came back to Talea. I chose to enjoy my time and my friendship with her—it was the time of year I relished most.
I visited with the Prince whenever I was in Chessington. I always looked forward to meeting with Him because He refreshed my soul like cool mountain water quenches the parched palate of a traveler. After the seventh feast He called for me, and I entered His throne room. I approached and knelt before the King of Arrethtrae.
“Rise up, Cedric … How is my faithful friend?” He asked with a smile on his lips.
I never quite felt comfortable being called a friend of the King, for I knew I did not deserve it. Yet knowing He thought of me as a friend empowered my resolve to not fail Him.
“I am quite well, my Prince,” I replied. “Throughout the kingdom, there is peace and prosperity. You have transformed Arrethtrae into a glorious kingdom!”
I lowered my head in deference.
“Your service has been invaluable to me, Cedric. You have done well.” He escorted me to the palace garden as we talked. I looked out upon the beautiful city of Chessington as He spoke.
“As an ambassador, you have excelled. How is your performance as a knight?” He asked.
I was taken aback slightly—the years of peace had invited complacency in the honing of certain skills as a knight. There are the skills of a gentleman I was required to rely upon daily as an ambassador, but there are also the skills of a warrior.
“I will not forget Your words, my Lord,” I replied. “I will continue my training every day.”
“Knighthood is in the heart and in the mind, Cedric,” He said.
“Yes, my Lord.” I knew that He had once again seen into my heart and now found a lack of vigilance. “I will refocus.”
He nodded, and we resumed our walk. This walk, and many others, always seemed to encourage and convict me at the same time. Being with the Prince was like looking into a mirror that reflected the secret truths of my heart—truths that even I did not recognize.
Nine feast celebrations came and went. Each one heralded the incredible blessing of the Prince’s rule over Arrethtrae. All manner of sickness was eliminated. The kingdom was young and full of life. I
imagined it was like the days of Peyton and Dinan, when the King first established Arrethtrae. The goodness of the Prince seemed to extend to forever. I came to love the annual feast for many reasons. It was an honor to pledge my allegiance to the King and the Prince each year. It was also a time to see all of my friends once again—William, Rob, Barrett, Cullen, Leinad, Tess, and many, many more.
At the conclusion of the ninth feast, the King issued a decree that every Knight of the Prince and every man, woman, and child who was sealed to the King must attend the tenth celebration feast.
Arrethtrae began to resemble the Kingdom Across the Sea—the splendor of the cities, the beauty of the country, and the peace in the hearts of her citizens.
What could ever destroy the greatness of such a land? I wondered.
TALEA!
It was the tenth year of the reign of the Prince. Talea and I met again in Salisburg to begin our journey northward. It was by far the most difficult trek, for we traveled to the cities beyond the Northern Mountains. Norwex was the largest of the northern cities, and Sir Gunther was both city prefect and regional governor there. Our assistants did not relish the journey, so this year we left them at Salisburg and traveled on our own. The passage to the northern region lay between the Northern Mountains and the Tara Hills Mountain Range.
It was during our visit to a small city named Denshire, between the foothills of these two mountain ranges, that we began to notice a strange thing happening among the people. As we visited with the prefect, Sir Bennington, and many Knights of the Prince, it became evident they felt something was amiss. Talea sensed it too, and I saw a serious look return to her eyes—a look I had not seen for years. Ten years of peace and prosperity would not allow me to imagine anything more serious than disgruntled citizens, but Talea was not convinced.
“Sir Bennington, what is it that seems to be wrong?” We sat side by side at an evening meal that he always hosted for us when we passed through. Two of Bennington’s knights had joined us.
He thought for a moment. “I have come to believe that secret meetings are occurring, but I cannot verify my suspicions.”
“What do you think these meetings concern?” Talea asked.
“I don’t know, Lady Talea,” he said. “I’ve asked the knights to keep a keen ear open for information, but we have turned up nothing.” Bennington threw his hands up and leaned back in his chair. “It may be nothing at all, but I am not the only one who has noticed it. It is almost as if the people are … discontent and annoyed.”
“Discontent and annoyed?” I asked. “With what?”
“Many have not sworn complete allegiance to the King and the Prince, you know,” he replied. “More than half the city will not drink the bitter wine at the celebration feasts and be sealed to the King.”
“I understand that, Sir Bennington, but even so they are enjoying the benefits of our benevolent King, are they not? They are not limited, nor is their freedom restricted, as long as they do not harm another or violate the Code. They can travel freely, run businesses, build, discover … What is left?”
The room fell silent.
“To defy,” replied one of the knights who had remained silent throughout the meal.
We all looked at him, and I suddenly remembered that the free will of man is like a coin with two sides. The decision to choose good and evil is available to every man. It was a sober realization.
I thanked Sir Bennington for sharing his concern and promised to stay vigilant as Talea and I continued our journey. He redirected the conversation to something uplifting before the evening’s end and told us of a spectacular view partway up the mountain range that was well worth the ride if we had a mind to see it.
The following day, Talea and I bid farewell to Sir Bennington and left for the northern cities, but we decided to first climb Crestview Ridge and enjoy the view Bennington had described. It was truly spectacular—almost as though the entire kingdom were before us. We left the ridge and traveled down the northern face of the range and came across a fresh campsite that seemed to disturb Talea.
“What is it, Talea?” I asked.
She looked at me and then to the trees. The air was cool this high up, and I could see her frosty breath as she exhaled. The rose of her cheeks captured my attention. She was beautiful. I had conditioned myself to ignore this part of my life, but now I briefly dreamed of a different path for us. I loved her company, but our mission seemed to prohibit anything more than business. I wondered if there was some other way for us to live. The last two years had been especially difficult. Even though our friendship was deeper, I was not content with it as it was.
“I don’t know, Cedric … Maybe it’s nothing,” she said. “But I have not felt such uneasiness for many years. Something is just not right.”
We searched the area for some clue as to who might have camped here. There were numerous fire pits, and I discovered many footprints—all large. A chilling thought swallowed my mind, and I looked over at Talea. She was thinking it too. I knelt down and traced one footprint with my finger. A sickening feeling enveloped my stomach.
“It’s time to leave, Talea,” I said.
She did not hesitate. We mounted our horses and traveled in silence for some time.
“Have you kept up with your sword training?” she finally asked.
“Nearly every day … my sword and the skills the Prince taught me are my love. It has been difficult at times to find someone to train with, but an imaginary foe is often more cunning than a real one. How about you?”
She smiled at me. “Want to find out?”
“I’ll take that as a challenge,” I said and returned her smile. “Just remember what happened the last time you challenged me.”
She raised one eyebrow, and her smile dissolved into a look of determination. We found a clearing at the base of the mountain where a stream wound its way through the forest trees to eventually spill over a rocky ledge into a waterfall-filled pool.
We dismounted and let our horses graze a few paces away. Talea faced me and drew her sword. I drew mine and bowed respectfully. She did likewise, and we took our stances. I realized that I had never trained with Talea. This would be significantly different than the Intrepid Course. I wondered how difficult this challenge would be.
She advanced with a quick combination. I defended and returned with one of my own. She quickly caught each of my cuts perfectly with the flat of her sword to preserve the edge of the blade. Within moments, our swords collided in a relentless volley of cuts and slices. She thrust; I parried. As the bout progressed, she became more and more aggressive, and I could not resist the urge to do the same. Soon we were in a full-fledged sword fight with neither of us holding anything back. It teetered on the edge of dangerous, but the competitive nature of Talea was enthralling. Her countenance was serious and focused. I found it necessary to tap into every ounce of my skill and ability to keep the fight equal.
We continued long after a reasonable amount of time for training, for neither of us appeared able to relinquish the fight. Not since my training with the Prince had I been so completely challenged. I was thoroughly impressed and found incredible comfort in the knowledge that I could trust Talea’s skill with the sword if ever our lives were at stake. The forest faded into the background as I found it necessary to focus exclusively on Talea’s moves. We rotated, sliced, cut, thrust, advanced, and retreated in an intense fight. At one point Talea brought a barrage of four combinations that put me in steady retreat.
She must be tiring. When the motion of her last cut expires, I will press hard and finish this, I thought.
But I did not see the dip in the ground behind me. As I stepped back, I lost my balance and fell backward. She brought a vertical cut down on me, and I just barely stopped it above my head. I quickly rolled to my feet next to a large fallen tree trunk. She brought another cut down upon me, and I stepped aside, narrowly avoiding her blade. The sword embedded itself into the tree just to the left of me, and she w
as left trying to withdraw it. I was positioned between her and the tree trunk—too close to execute any moves. She brought both hands to bear on the stubborn sword, but it would not budge. I considered sidestepping to gain room for a slice, but instead I wrapped my left arm around both of hers and held them tightly. Her face was close to mine, and I saw beads of sweat on her brow, cheeks, and upper lip. Both of us were breathing hard. I looked into her dark, captivating eyes, which were full of ferocity. She struggled, then paused and looked into my eyes. I flipped my sword into the air, grabbed it by the steel of the blade, and offered the hilt to her.
“I yield, Lady Talea,” I said between breaths.
Her eyes softened, and for a moment a look of genuine admiration crossed her face. I saw in her eyes what I remembered catching a glimpse of the first time we met. She released the grip on her sword, and I let loose of her arms. She took my sword without turning her eyes away from mine.
“I accept, Sir Cedric of Chessington,” she replied.
I smiled, and we both moved apart slightly. “Thank you for one of the most invigorating challenges with the sword I have ever had. You are a worthy opponent with whom I am honored to serve.”
“As are you, Cedric.”
Talea and I retrieved her sword and refreshed ourselves with the cold mountain-stream water before resuming our trek. We visited two smaller cities before arriving in Norwex. Sir Gunther welcomed us, and we were soon sitting in his manor around a large wooden table with delicious delicacies before us. I was thankful for the days of travel between visits, or I might have taken on the look of a pregnant horse with all the wonderful meals the prefects offered. His wife and two children joined us for the meal.