“Awful news!” she spat as he came towards the
desk, her long wide black skirt seemed to arrive long
before she did. “Your father was a bastard,” she glared
towards Brenin, “you knew this, you also knew your
mother did all she could to escape him, but he
poisoned you against her.”
“Afie,” said Harris as he turned towards her, “I
like you more each day,” his smile widened, “an
honest woman, the world needs more of them.”
“You’ll only ever get honesty from me,” she
looked to Harris, she seemed to glare towards him,
until he realised what she was looking for and quickly
leapt from the chair and offered her a seat. “Thank
you,” she softly said as she lowered herself into the
chair. “Now,” she harshly said as she folded her hands
onto her lap, “are you going to listen to the truth? so
we can end this chapter of your mourning?”
Brenin looked towards her, his eyes seemed to
turn to cold steel, not knowing what she had planned.
“If you must,” he softly replied.
“Your mother was a wonderful woman,” she
began, slightly lowering her harsh tone, “however, she
was given to your father by King Farrier, of Volnot, as
his only daughter, he would not listen to her plight,
your father was horrible to her, she did not wish to
have the company of men.” Her tone lowered, she
leant forward. Harris began drinking from a large
tanker at the side, knowing exactly where the
conversation was leading. “She preferred women,” she
said with raised brows, “you were her everything,” her
voice became soft, “she hated leaving you behind, but
knew that the only way to restore our relations with the
dragons, was to make the people see just how cruel
your father was, even if it meant ending her own life.”
Brenin listened to every word she said. “You have
always been honest with me, Afie, I have no reason to
doubt you now,” he sat forward, “Harris,” he said
menacingly, “you can wipe that stupid grin from your
face, now,” he warned.
“Apologies,” smirked Harris, “I think I would’ve
liked your mother, a lot,” he commented.
“Out!” ordered Brenin, having had enough of
Harris’s company for the day.
“Such a glorious morning!” called Harelda as she
stood in the hall of the Sonnin palace tree. Branwen
was yet to speak with her mother properly, having only
been back a few days. Harelda had spent most of her
morning tending to matters of the palace. Her need
for control had seen her council disbanded several
years before the death of her husband, Taranis.
Instead, Harelda was now served by advisers.
Having tended to matters of a political nature,
Harelda made her way into her chambers to the left of
the hall. Stepping inside she saw Branwen sat waiting
for her.
“Your plans for today?” asked Harelda as she
walked around her desk to sit. She did not want her to
stop and reflect on what had happened in Marrion,
she wanted her to find strength in carrying on.
Branwen had missed the extravagance of the
palace. As she sat radiantly in her chair, a long blue fey
gown flowed on the floor. She replied with a sorrowful
whisper, “I would like to think I have plans, but sadly,
I have nothing left.”
Harelda’s brows dropped down. “You miss it,
don’t you?”
“Somewhat, I can’t deny that feeling needed, at
first it was addictive,” she sighed, “but then, you realise
your true worth.”
Her look of reminiscence made Harelda feel for
her. “I have felt it too, the end of service, can often
lead to a more fulfilling role, therefore it is insisted
upon. To serve your people, at a great time of need, it
is not only for them, but also for you, Branwen.”
Branwen understood, but still, it did not make her
feel any better. “I feel empty, mother,” she sorrowfully
sighed, “I don’t know what I have planned today, or
the next day, or days following that.”
Harelda leant forward. Her deep tone threw
Branwen. “Then you have completed your task, next
on your agenda, is to find a way to strengthen our
kingdoms.” Her suggestion was fair, Branwen knew it
would only be a matter of time.
“What if,” she slowly began, “I tell you I have
someone in mind?”
Harelda sat back, a look of wonder and concern
drenched her face. “Then I would insist you tell me
who?”
Branwen did not know how to reveal her truth, but
she knew what she wanted. “I think you’ve met him…”
she softly said.
Before Branwen could finish Harelda stood, she
slammed her hands to her desk and leant over, a dark
mood fell on the room. “If you say Harris Bearwood,
I will have you both!”
Her deep booming voice sent a thunderous shiver
through Branwen, her blood ran cold. “Mother I…”
“Don’t try it girl!” Harelda warned. Her frightening
demeanour terrified Branwen. “I like Harris, he is
valuable to me, to this world even, he will be rewarded
by our kingdom, but not with you!”
Branwen stood, shocked. Harelda had never
spoken to her with such anger. Branwen had her
answer. “I was going to suggest Brenin,” said Branwen,
she had saved herself from her mother’s bitter
warning.
Harelda sat, she took a moment to calm. She
thought for a while. “I like Brenin,” she calmly
replied, “however, he is too old.”
“Age is but a number,” laughed Branwen,
“besides, I feel that the council of Cronnin could use a
dose of Sonnin culture.”
Her highbrow attitude forced a smile from the
corner of Harelda’s mouth. “You can’t be expected to
wed someone you don’t know, some time in Cronnin
may be called for,” replied Harelda, “ready yourself,
Librye is a wonder to behold.”
The first quarter of the Cronnin city was reserved
for the convicts, crooks, felons, and most iniquitous
villains the city had to offer. The small holding cells
were enough to sit, not even lay, a small bucket to
relieve themselves, food would consist of something
similar the farmers would feed to the pigs. Sat in his
misery, Connor silently reflected on his life. His dirt
filled rags stank of the filth around him. His fingers
were now black with the grime in the small cell. He
had accepted his fate; anything would be better than
Offenmoor, the prison island.
The rattling of heavy chains kept him awake at
night, he would have to wait for his misery to end.
With only one per day being led to execution, he had
seven in front of him.
The gates to the city were bustling with trade. The
Kings Guard were out in force, as
Brenin joined
Librye and Harris for their morning commute. Harris
was still torn over Marrion, but he was already working
on a plan for vengeance. Mord had joined them that
morning, being treated to a sweetbread from Harris,
she made her way back towards the palace with
Librye, as Harris and Brenin walked towards the first
quarter, over an hour’s walk from the palace.
“The city is busy this time of year,” mentioned
Harris as he took a bite of his sweetbread.
Brenin too had joined him in tasting the local
delights, the baker had been utterly dumbfounded to
see the king at her door.
“It’s the trade markets next turn, the back quarter,
to the northern gate will open to trades from around
Cammbour, Thrasia, Xencliff even Qasar and
Amerius, they usually begin now, they’ll all leave
before winter bites us,” he bit into his sweetbread.
Harris had noticed a small crowd gathering, he could
hear calls from the people, bidding them a ‘good
morning.’
“So, the trades begin soon, so what will this mean
for the safety of Cronnin?” asked Harris, he was
interested to know more about how secure the city
truly was.
Brenin gave a rumbling laugh. “Every inch of this
city is seen from those walls,” he looked to the
towering white walls which guarded the city, “Cronnin
was built on dipped land, meaning the walls stand on
the highest part of the city foundations, there is
nothing the guards don’t see. The city is safe.”
As they made their way along the busy streets, the
market traders rubbed their hands as they saw them
coming. It was no secret that Harris liked to spend,
and that they both seemed to have an affection for a
certain young lady in their lives. The jewellers were a
favourite of them both, green emerald necklaces, gold
bangles and bracelets. Even a tiny fire flower head
diadem Harris just knew she would love, Librye was
being spoilt constantly by them.
Next were the dresses, shining ruby red silk
dresses, bright turquoise shoes and a green satin lady’s
cape, just a few of the things the two bought for her.
Their largest purchase, spending over four-hundred
gold coins or cons, the smaller silver coins being
chains, four-hundred cons later, the book seller was
well on his way towards an entire turns trade.
As they came towards the first quarter, Harris and
Brenin stepped through the tall gates and into the
courtyard. A kennel-like structure ran down the side
of the high walls. The yard was swarming with guards.
“You made it then,” called one of the guards as he
came towards Harris.
The guard was a tall black slim man, his eyes were
the colour of hard worn slate, he stood proud within
his yard of death.
“What’s on for today, Theo?” asked Harris as he
stepped towards him.
Theo looked to the back of him. The cell to the
end housed the prisoner for the day. Theo escorted
them towards the cell. He hit the cell with his short
sword, making the man jump. “Smile, Keith,” he
called to him, the man looked up, his hair was
drenched with filth, sticky mud had dried to his
clothes. “Your king is here to see you.” Keith simply
looked towards the filth he sat in; he had lost hope in
everything. The stench from the cells forced Brenin to
cover his nose with a small handkerchief from his
pocket. “Keith thought it would be a good idea to take
the lives of his wife and four children during
Onmidden.” His smile was twisted as he looked
towards Keith. “In his drunken state, he was found
sleeping beside them, by his lover.”
Harris’s lip curled with disgust. “I remember the
warrant well,” said Brenin as he wandered on.
Theo escorted Brenin towards a viewing bench at
the side of the gallows. Keith was led out of his small
cell, the fresh air on his skin and warm sun in his eyes
seemed to be chilling to him, as he saw the noose fall
from the old wooden crossbar. He was forced up the
steps.
“So, the next thing we need to think about is
getting an army to Marrion, we need to take it back,”
said Harris, his eyes watched Keith as he walked up
the steps.
The muffled sound of the executioner seemed dull
in the small arena.
“The very thought of it terrifies me,” said Brenin
as he looked to Harris and back towards the gallows.
Harris reclined back, using the raised bench at the
back to rest his elbows. “We still need to try,” he
watched, Keith had a moment of relapse, he was
forced by three guards towards the rope as it swung
provocatively in the breeze. Muffled sounds of Keith
struggling swirled in the air.
“Try as much as you like,” said Brenin as he
glanced towards Harris, “Marrion is lost to us, now we
need to fortify our defences surrounding.”
Keith stood at the gallows, the executioner gave his
final order, in a deep voice he grumbled. “Keith,
Dune, Duhanon, you are hereby found guilty of
murder, you shall be hanged by the neck, until dead,
may the gods weigh your transgressions.” He stepped
to the side and pulled the trap door, his legs flailed out
as he struggled and spun, like an un-fallen leaf he
vibrated below the rope.
“Ooh,” called Harris, “that’s going to hurt in the
morning,” he joked. He sat up straight. “So, if you
think Marrion is a lost cause, can I at least try?”
Brenin looked to him from under his brow, “just try?”
his eyes tightened, and nose wrinkled.
“How can I say no?” he was taken by Harris’s
vague attempt to be charming, “very well, but your
priority is still with the ongoing battles, Belgravia and
Tosta are the first ones you need to sort out, then
work on Roe, following that, Marrion.”
“I can do that, I do need one thing though,” he
began to stand. They made their way back towards the
gates. Sat in the end cell close to the gate, Connor
watched. “I need a blind eye,” he softly said to Brenin.
“And for you to turn it,” he nodded wide eyed.
“Remember, ask no questions, get no lies.”
Brenin puffed his cheeks slightly. “What you do is
your business, I need no part in it.”
As they began to leave, Harris looked to the end
cell, he took his sword from his sheath. Smashing his
sword against the bars of the cell, the eyes of Connor
looked towards Harris. His face was now caked with
dirt and filth, his wrinkles seemed to stand out more.
“See you in Nean, the depths of Tataria await your
arrival,” said Harris as he glared towards him. Connor
did not argue, he grabbed the bars, and glared towards
Harris, a sorrowful look in his eyes seemed to wither
/> and die, his hope had left him. Brenin had nothing to
say to Connor, he walked from the gate with Harris
and his guards.
Arriving back at the palace they were both met
with a scornful look from Mord as she stood at the
bottom of the stairs.
“There you are!” she called as she thundered
towards them, “you both spoil her far too much!”
Harris and Brenin laughed as they walked towards
her. “I got you something,” said Harris, immediately
stopping Mord as she came towards them. Her brows
raised as Harris reached into a coin purse on his belt.
He took out a small necklace, a single purple fire
flower hung as a charm. “I wouldn’t leave you out,” he
said with a high-pitched quiet voice.
Mord was beside herself, she was in awe of the
pendent. “Thank you, Harris,” she softly said. Brenin
turned to Harris, he had failed to get Mord anything,
his eyes widened towards him and lips pressed tightly
together. “But still, you both need to stop spoiling her
so much, she has hardly any space left in her room.”
Brenin retired to his chambers and Harris to his
tower, as he walked towards the east tower, he peered
into Librye’s open room.
“Did you like it?” he asked, his smile was so wide
his eyes almost closed as she tried on the necklace and
diadem Harris had sent back for her, she sat at her
dressing table mirror.
She shot from her table and bolted towards him.
“Thank you, Harris,” she said with a wide smile of
excitement as she threw her arms around him.
“You’re quite welcome,” laughed Harris, he
crouched in front of her and held her hands, “now,
you stay here, take the day to do exactly as you please,
I have some sensitive matters to tend to,” he insisted,
knowing it was likely she would follow him.
Librye did as asked and remained in her room,
she heard Harris make his way towards his tower.
His day of working would be short, he had sent his
orders to Belgravia and Tosta, his orders were clear, to
frighten the enemy, but also, he had a second plan,
which would help their efforts. The sweet summer sun
warmed his room, the soft breeze crept through,
taking the soft curtains with it as they danced in the
breeze. All was well in Harris’s mind.
The door to the tower below his office creaked
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