by Paul Heisel
"What is this place? Where are we now?"
"Feln, I'm sorry."
Feln became lightheaded. Sli cowered, backing away like a dog that had chewed his master's sandals. Feln had the urge to take out his sword, but he didn't. "Why are you sorry?"
"I'm not taking you to Safun. The Emperor will send for you in time. Just as he commands me, he shall command you. Please understand the Emperor is my master and I must perform the tasks he gives me. It is the duty given to me by my clan and I must obey."
With that Sli vaulted into the air, flapping his wings. The force of the wind tore at Feln. Dust kicked up. Sli maneuvered his body until he was facing Feln, staying out of attack range. The maw dipped close to Feln. "For such a child in this world," Sli said, "you are wise Feln. I thank you for fixing my wings. You don't know what that meant to me, human."
Sli shot into the sky, banked toward the Emperor's palace, and flew on. Feln watched as the dragon departed, tracking him until he couldn't see him any longer. His insides were churning, ripping apart with this…betrayal. The dragon had saved him from Hiru only to deliver him to the Emperor. He wasn't going to Safun any time soon, he was sure of that.
Now that the dragon had cleared the grounds, a person emerged from the entrance of the manor house. He was dressed in a dark blue uniform and it bore the insignia of a golden sword. The short, older man hurried ahead and bowed.
"So pleased to meet you. My name is Emato."
The man kept bowing.
Others emerged from the building, all dressed in the same uniforms. They came out, curious about the new arrival. They were waiting for him to make an announcement. Feln finally realized what they were waiting for - his name.
"I'm Feln-en-Xialao-Narneth, and you may call me Feln."
"Of course. I have not met you before. Is this your first time traveling to Daiwer-dar from Safun?"
Feln had to laugh. "It's my first visit, but I'm not from Safun."
Emato stood erect. "But, how can that be?"
"What is this place?"
Emato motioned to the lantern lit grounds surrounding the manor house and support buildings. The property stretched for a great distance to either side of the manor. The entire grounds were well-manicured and painstakingly taken care of. "This is the Xialao home away from Safun. This is where the Xialao family stays when they are visiting the Emperor. All families have similar estates, divided evenly of course in size, around the palace. That direction is the city of Amuyakin, behind us I guess you could say. In front of us is the Emperor's palace."
"Are any members of the Xialao family here?"
"Oh no," Emato said. "Few ever come here from Safun. Maybe a few delegations now and then when the Emperor requests our presence, Favored Ones like yourself, you know, politics. Without a Most Favored, we have little to do."
"How long have you been here?"
"In years? Maybe ten now. I was graciously assigned this duty and will serve Xialao until I need to be replaced. If you're wondering, I don't have any family in Safun, so I'm not missing anyone."
"What is your duty here?" Feln asked.
"To serve of course. I'm in charge of the household and will attend to every reasonable need you have. I have a staff of thirty to assist, including one of the best cooks in all of Pyndira. A couple weeks here will fatten you up. Speaking of, how long will you be staying?"
"Not long," said Feln. A thought occurred to him. "Can you send messages for me?"
"It can be arranged. Of course. Do you have friends in Amuyakin you wish to catch up? We can notify them tonight of your arrival, if you wish."
"I need to send a message to Safun. And one to Hiru in Emesia, maybe two messages to Emesia. One needs to go to Hou."
"Indeed. Inside there are writing materials. We have ravens who can deliver messages throughout the land."
"Very well."
"Come with me," Emato said.
Feln followed Emato down the path toward the manor. The servants bowed as he went by, regarding him with respect. Through massive oak front doors they went, entering an atrium. The floors were a dark marble, a deep black flecked with red and silver, and had a sheen like metal. Everything reflected. Two staircases went upstairs and joined at a balcony, hallways went off to unknown areas. To the left was the entrance to another room, which Emato led him through. Dusty linen sheets covered the furnishings.
Emato explained they kept the furniture covered when no one was in residence. When members of the family arrived, they removed the covers. He apologized for the unkempt look. Emato said that the house would be in working order by the morning for his stay and they would attend to his needs. They went through several different rooms and each contained covered furniture. Emato apologized in every room. He kept apologizing. The rooms were decorated in dark colors and rich woods, including wood paneled walls and detailed carvings of roses. The ceilings were just as marvelous, each were high and dark as well, each with a black chandelier hanging down in the middle of the room. The candles burning gave the rooms a warm glow.
They entered what looked to be a study. Servants were clearing away the linen covers and removing them from the room, while another person swept the dust away with a straw broom. Another servant removed the blinds to let light in through an exterior window. Books lined the study, each looking untouched in years. A desk was in one corner. Servants put down writing instruments, paper, a red candle, scroll cases, and a seal with the image of a sword. The most prominent feature of the room, though, was a painting. It was a portrait of a woman. She had dark hair and big blue eyes, her smile had a hint of mischievousness. The locks were curly and shiny, her lips round and full. She was young and full of life.
Feln knew who was in the painting - it was his mother. He had never seen her before.
"I must say there is a remarkable resemblance to you and the former head of the Xialao family. Are you by chance related?"
"She's my mother," Feln said. "Unfortunately I never got to know her."
"Sounds like there is a story behind that."
"There is. Maybe another time. It's long."
"Of course. Master, would you like me to take your clothes and wash them? Or provide you with new ones? You look like you have traveled for days on end, and by dragon, what an experience that would be. The Emperor must have important business for you if he sent the family dragon for you."
"Washing would be fine." Feln took off his robe, the filthy thing was stiff with grime and stains were everywhere. Emato took it unerringly.
"Forgive me Master," Emato said. "Ah, now I understand. Forgive me. I should have made the connection when I thought you looked like your mother. Had you indicated your status, we would have been more attentive. We didn't know. Forgive me. So, it's been found."
Feln looked to Emato, who was staring at the belt of the Most Favored. "You need not ask forgiveness," Feln said. He took a deep soothing breath and stretched his arms. His stomach rumbled. "I will need to have those three messages dispatched as quickly as they can go. Then I would like to eat and I would like to rest."
Emato scurried away.
Before Feln could sit down and start writing to Suun, Iristi, and Rayu, a handful of servants came inside the study. They took his katana and put it on a dark wood stand, placing the set on a mantle near a fireplace. One began cleaning and shining the Dragonfly katana. Fruit, water, and wine came in. Feln didn't imbibe the strong looking drink knowing that he needed to keep his head about him. He wrote the messages and sealed them with Emato's help and gave him instructions, then had them dispatched. The message to Iristi would probably not get to her, but he had to try. Emato assured him a message from a Most Favored could not be ignored or interfered with, that it would reach the intended recipient. Feln had other notions about that because Hiru had assassinated Chang and was the Most Favored of Emesia now.
He bathed and ate more food, dressed in what he was told was a Xialao family uniform. It was dark blue and military looking, stiff and unco
mfortable. For the remainder of the evening, he humored Emato by wearing it, but then told Emato that he would wear his robes and fighting clothes once they were clean. No one argued with him.
The manor house was a massive estate, containing enough rooms to house hundreds if he needed to. It was three levels high and had two lower levels beneath the ground on one side of the manor. In the back, protected by other rooms on each side and facing the back of the property, was his suite. It was big enough that an extended family could have easily lived in the room. It was spacious and contained sitting areas, another library, and a generous soft bed. There were paintings here, and to his surprise one looked like the castle in Borgard. Rugs covered the polished wooden planks, keeping the cool floor from his bare feet.
Later in the evening guards in the service of the Emperor came and took up positions around the compound, stating they were there to protect the Most Favored during his stay. Feln guessed it was really to make sure he didn't leave. After the appearance of the guards, a message arrived with the Emperor's royal seal. Inside was a summons to a meeting inside the palace, but it did not say with whom or when. Emato indicated it probably meant tomorrow, and most likely any meeting would take place with one of the Emperor's many administrators or even the Chamberlain. Hardly anyone got to see the Emperor, even the Most Favoreds.
Feln retired for the evening, and Emato gave him instructions on how to make contact should he need anything, then he was alone for the first time in many hours. The bedroom was empty save for him, now only illuminated by a single oil lantern by his bedside. On a wooden chest were his fighting clothes and robe, cleaned, dried, and ready for tomorrow. On the bed were bedclothes, which he put on, and after looking in the mirror decided they were ridiculous but would serve their purpose. He settled into bed and turned off the lantern, dipping him into darkness.
A reddish glow from the twin moons streamed in through the windows. Clouds came and went, alternating his room between a soft glow and darkness. He got up, pulled the curtains, and shut out most of the light. A window, in the shape of a crescent, was near the peak of the ceiling and let in a small amount of moonlight. Feln returned to bed and stared up. He wasn't sure what he was going to do next. Figuring a way to get back home came to mind, Owori - how he missed her now more than ever. There was this business with the Emperor to attend to, and he had no idea what the meeting would be about. At least he was in a place where he had support, people loyal to the Xialao family to help and guide him when he needed it.
There was a rustling noise, so subtle it would have gone unnoticed except for Feln's acute senses. The magic of the belt was part of him now whether he had it on or not. He wondered, would he even need to wear the belt in the future? Feln sat up, slowly, letting the covers fall down. He swung his legs over the bed and put his feet firmly on the floor. Looking up, he found the source of the noise - the door to his room was ajar. Standing near the entrance, slightly illuminated by the moonlight, was a crouched figure dressed in all black.
Here ends Book One of An Emperor's Fury, Most Favored
Continue the adventures of Feln and Owori in Book Two, The Frayed Rope.
The Frayed Rope (Preview)
Chapter 1 - Stability
It was a never ending search for Owori and she refused to believe that Feln was dead. Her nerves were on edge because of the recent events at Borgard castle, and she was near her breaking point. No matter where, how long, or how many people searched, she couldn’t find a trace of Feln. It was as if he had vanished into thin air. She questioned Makison and other survivors to his whereabouts, and all the stories indicated he had fled into the storage closet, but no one recalled him emerging, before or after Jakks had been overpowered. Inside the storeroom, there were no secret doors or places to hide. She had searched it a dozen times. It was a mystery. She couldn’t – wouldn’t – believe he was dead. There had to be an explanation.
In the past two weeks, the Accord of the Hand stabilized the Borgard government as best they could. A small force of one hundred Accord of the Hand monks and soldiers had stayed behind in secret, waiting for a signal from Kara to assist them in seizing the leadership. Once that signal had been displayed, the strong force had helped secure the castle and had prevented any independent uprising from happening. After the capture of Jakks and Makison, all fighting ceased once messengers reached the armies invading Sabrin. Makison was restored as the rightful king, but the long years of confinement had lasting effects. Only the week before had Makison regained enough strength to be useful, and his mental acuity was questionable at the best. The Accord of the Hand managed the kingdom as best they could. The Grand Master had put Owori in charge of the assimilation of the Borgard family, and she had done a remarkable job of organizing the day to day workings of the castle. Now that the armies advancing on Sabrin had retreated and the Accord of the Hand was not under further threat, it was time for Borgard to become part of the Accord’s Empire. Arrangements were being made, treaties drawn up, and promises exchanged at the high levels of government. Into the second week Makison showed signs of changing his mind about the whole thing; he reluctantly yielded, as he was in no position to negotiate more favorable terms than what was offered. More personnel from the Accord of the Hand were coming in teams, and soon, Owori’s task would be complete and she could go back to Waskhal. It would be difficult for her to leave knowing Feln was unaccounted for.
To Owori’s dismay, Kara and Gargam had stayed behind as well to help. She admitted with reluctance that they had worked well as a team and had done a reasonable job. Kara clearly resented her being in charge of the castle, Owori knew that, and she thought it curious that Gargam showed loyalty to Kara. They were from different monasteries, and Owori would have anticipated more friction and less familiarity. Her intuition told her trouble was brewing with those two, and who knew who else was mixed up in it. This made her worry about the Accord of the Hand.
Owori sat behind a desk, going over the reports she had insisted various personnel complete daily. More of the conscripted Borgard army was arriving back. They would remain disbanded until they figured out what to do with them long term. Though the military leaders had been removed and separated, the large idle force had concerned her. Even stripped of its leadership, an army of this size coupled with resentment would fuel discontent. It could have been a problem. Her solution had been breaking them into small labor groups and sending them to fix the destruction around Borgard. It had kept them busy and it seemed to be working. In the coming months, they would have to reorganize the army for the sake of securing the kingdom. Other threats were out there.
Another report she read was about the militia having trouble with thieves. After the departure of the main fighting force, crime increased as citizens took advantage of the lack of lawfulness. The militia was made up of local men, volunteers really, who were paid a small wage in return for being a presence and keeping order. They weren’t well-trained, nor did they have appreciable fighting experience. In this situation, she thought this was where the Hand’s soldiers could help. She made a note to assign a force to secure the areas outside of the castle proper, create several patrols through the city with the militia at all hours, and punish the criminals they caught. Justice would be swift and strong, and this would deter future activity. With a sigh, Owori set the reports to the side. She put her hair up with one of her purple silk ribbons, sunk her elbows into the desk, and put her face in her hands.
She missed Feln.
He was so dear to her. She loved him without end, and she had never thought she would be without him. Yet here she was, partway between hope and grief, both emotions mixing together. She went over every detail of the accounts in her mind, imagining Feln and what he would have done. The soldiers who had witnessed the events told a story that didn’t make sense, further increasing her doubt about the facts. True, Feln was a fantastic fighter and warrior, but he couldn’t move like lighting. They described him moving so fast at times it had been blin
ding. She was going to find out what happened, and would work on it until she drew her last breath. Where did he go? Where could he go?
There was a knock at her door and she looked up, expecting to see another Borgard servant asking if she needed food, wine, or more parchment. What she needed was peace, quiet, and a scrap of information to help her find out what had happened to Feln. Makison had been more forthcoming how Feln had rescued him, how they had escaped the dungeon, and how they had split up. Makison remembered seeing Feln during the final confrontation with Jakks, but he had been knocked senseless and wasn’t sure what had happened next. It was frustrating for her. She knew in her heart that he was alive. But where was he? Shades!
The door creaked open without her responding to the knock, so it could only be the one person who would knock but not announce her presence. Kara. The Master of Spring came through the door. She had discarded her monastery clothes and was wearing formal attire that was more appropriate in the castle. Despite having the opportunity to change clothes, Owori decided her fighting clothes were enough to distinguish her as one of the representatives from the Accord of the Hand. It seemed Kara was more interested in blending in than representing the Accord’s leadership.
“Well met Kara,” Owori said. “I see you have found additional dresses that are to your liking.”
Kara frowned. “I see you’re still wearing the same clothes you wore to invade this kingdom. The same clothes you wore when I captured Jakks and ended this conflict.”
It was prattle like this that Owori despised. She didn’t want to be Kara, nor did she want to be around her. Since taking over the duties of restoring order in the castle and easing Makison into his new role as an ally to the Accord of the Hand, she had witnessed Kara flaunting her power. She had taken the king and ended his rule, and she wasn’t going to let anyone forget it. Owori didn't care who got the credit, what was important to her was the job had been completed. “What do you need?” Owori asked.