“You better be sure about this, your Highness. We can’t afford to have another enemy for now,” Tolous said as he crossed his arms.
“I’m sure the prince has his reasons. We need to trust him. Have faith in our prince,” Tamara said. She then proceeded back to the throne and so did the councilors move to her side.
“I love what you have done with the place, especially the throne,” he said. The throne was made to resemble the Four-horned crown and the banners in the city. The imperial palace was changed to a golden green banner, understandably with the gold being more prominent as her sister’s personal preference.
“I’m glad you like it,” Tamara said. “The outskirts of the city actually are still being handled with as we speak.”
“Yes, I see that you are adding another ring of walls,” he said as he looked outside.
“The city is growing exponentially since last year,” Tamara said and suddenly the cheery voice from everyone started to fade.
It all started from the refugees that gathered in Barceneim. It was because of him. The city was indeed growing, for the good of it at least.
“I’m sorry,” Tamara suddenly said.
“Nothing to be sorry about, my Queen. And besides, it’s good for the empire as well. The capital city will be able to accommodate more offices for the day to day activities of the empire to function,” he said with a smile, a forced smile. He knew his sister knew as well. She just smiled back at him.
“That would be good for us either way,” Tamara said. “So what brought you here in person, Brother?”
He stepped forward as every single councilor cleared their throats. “It is a matter of the recent events that had just happened within our lands, my Queen.”
“You could’ve just have contacted us with the Orderian owls? I grew fond of using them. I can talk to my friends back in Remolussium because of it,” the Queen said.
“It is far too important for a simple use of the owls that I deemed it necessary that we speak face to face,” he said then he looked at everybody. “I need to know who was buried in that tomb?” The councilors only looked at each other while the queen seemed to have no idea, “At least I know I’m not the only one who was kept in the dark. This is still not good however,” then he looked at the councilors. “Even the imperial phalanx unknowingly guards such a place.”
“But doesn’t the imperial phalanx report to you, your Highness?” Tolous asked.
“They do. Do you know what was on the records? That place was a passageway that leads directly to the plains of Tamara and to the north, without being detected. Thieves and smugglers could come through it unnoticed. So they guard it, day and night. Imagine to their surprise what was beyond it,” he told them.
“A tomb,” Ferrier said.
“But it is not just a tomb, councilor. No. This tomb had been made to house a body of a king or something at par with that title.”
“A king, you say? At par with it? Do you mean an Emperor?” Tamara said.
“Nonsense! That passageway is just two mountains refusing to meet,” Tolous said.
“There was a tomb built for a king. Carved right out of the mountain actually. It has our emblems, our statues—”
“A name? Did you find a name, my liege?” Moselei suddenly asked.
“Sadly, it’s like it has been scratched off of the tomb,” he answered then looked at his sister. “We must find who did this, and most importantly who was buried there. That is not just some rich noble buried there. We need to scour the imperial library for any records of it,” he said.
“I already have the maesters of knowledge look for it,” Tamara said as she poured herself a glass of wine. “But after what you just said, I think we need to have the recordsmaster come to the palace as well.”
“I was thinking of the same thing, my Queen. We need to have every record related to that tomb should we found any. It might lead us to answers as to why it was raided in the first place,” he said.
“Were there any valuables there? Gold perhaps?” Tamara asked him.
“None. And if there was we may have no way of knowing it now. But inside the tomb seemed to have been blown off,” he said.
Tamara turned to him, “Blown off? How?”
“It seems as though the raiders already got what they were looking for,” he answered, seeing the bafflement on his sister’s face as she drank. “Believe me, your Highness, I’m quite curious as well as to what a corpse will serve them.”
“A cult perhaps?” Tolous suggested.
“Oh please, do not kid now, councilor. Cultists won’t have a chance against a single phalanx soldier, let alone a whole troop of them,” Tamara said.
“Well, we may have to entertain the idea now, your Highness. After all, most of our men are in the frontlines. Only the city guards and a handful of battalions are left to defend our cities,” Tolous added.
Tamiron knew he was right. He didn’t have any choice at all. The councilors talked amongst themselves while he only stared outside as he watched the city walls being erected afar. But somehow doubt ran through his mind about the cults. There was, in no way, could they have taken down a phalanx soldier, kill one or even throw them against the cavern wall.
“First is Malatur’Aren, now this. I wonder when we will I ever have a break,” Tamara said as she giggled to the thought.
“What about Malatur’Aren?” he asked as he removed his helmet and set it aside on a chair meant for him.
“My liege, the governor and the former councilor of Malatur’Aren is still not happy about what happened last year,” Moselei said.
“Who wouldn’t? We took his job!” Tolous shouted and laughed loudly. This did get some giggles from everyone, including the Queen, but not him.
“Haven’t we settled it already? My first decree is absolute. He should just let it go,” he suddenly said.
“And that is what we thought as well. We might assign a new governor but—”
“I am against it,” Tamara said, quickly interrupting Tolous to which he agreed and repeated.
“Yes, the Queen is against it,” Tolous said then smiled.
“Why so? We need to secure the north. We need those iron and holenshartz ores from their mines. We need the holenshartz now more than ever. You need to make a choice, Queen Tamara. We can’t have this kind of petty politics while the War for Shardon is happening,” he explained to her.
“War for Shardon? Is that what we are calling it now, dear brother?” Tamara said as she tapped her fingers on the arm rests, immediately silencing him, “I thought we have no intention of keeping that continent. It is full of wild beasts and creatures that not even the combined forces of the eight kingdoms of Arumar can stand a chance.”
“I apologize for what I said, your Majesty, but you have to understand the reason as to why we need to take control of it,” he tried to justify what he said.
“So it’s an invasion now of a forsaken land?” Tamara asked again.
“No,” he said hesitantly. It was never an invasion in the first place, but after he found out the remnants of the race of men that lived there, he had no choice but to hold those lands. “Something has to be done for what I’ve found out.”
“And that is?” Tamara asked and waited for his answer. But somehow he could not bring himself to tell her and the council about the race of men.
Tamara took this silence as her que, “Right, I understand your concerns for Malatur’Aren, but trust me and leave the politics to me. You already have the War for Shardon to worry about so leave this to me. What I will permit you to worry over however, is the raid that had happened within our borders. I will send for the recordsmaster immediately and have him look for everything related for that unknown tomb himself,” Tamara said firmly.
He only looked down and grabbed his helmet. “Thank you, your Highness. I will take my leave.”
“I already had your quarters prepared for you. Stay,” Tamara said.
“The barracks gen
eral quarters will be fine for me,” he declined the offer.
“That is an order from your Queen, General,” Tamara said firmly again and both of their eyes met.
“As you wish, your Grace. I will take my leave,” he said then bowed with a smile. He was escorted by servants when the doors suddenly opened and to his surprise a kid’s giggle came out behind it and immediately ran inside only to bump him.
The child tried to stand up and when the child turned to him, his happy face turned cold, as the child just stood there, and so did he.
“My child, come here!” Tamara called out to the kid who looked past him then ran towards Tamara.
He could see the kid clinging to his sister as if she was his mother. Tamara tended to him while the servants trailed behind.
“I’m sorry, your grace but he kept running. He runs so fast,” said the panting servant.
“It’s fine,” Tamara said. The child just looked at him and stared daggers at him for a long time before the servants took the child away. The kid continued to stare at him cold until he left the throne room.
“Who is the child?” he asked.
“His name was Matty,” Tamara said and he was shocked to know. “I adopted him, his now your nephew. His name now is Matthos. The sole survivor of Melgrace,”
He was crestfallen. His hand shook upon hearing the name of the child. The child of the mother and father he had killed with his bear hands. The name that was on the plaque and on the picture. He knew him. And because of his actions a year ago, the child had become an orphan.
KING RAVAEN OF THE Mystic Realms arrived on the outskirts of Gorenhurd and headed straight towards Mt. Mjior. He wasted no time as he ignored the ceremony of the dead, with the waveniers, the falcon-kind’s priests with their headdress shaped like a falcon’s head.
He could smell the incense that they used as he flew above them. He remembered when they did this for his father. The smell of it lingered in the Great Tree even for months after his father had died. He was only made free of it when he left for the mission they were given to take for Tamiron.
He could hear them from afar as they sang the Falcon song of the dead, Quars. He was halfway to the mountains when suddenly a paneloseis started to appear above the temple. He stopped midair as his heart skipped a beat. He took a deep breath and started to fly again.
He landed on the holy temple and he quickly paid his respects for the dead guards that greeted him. He was devastated by what he saw and his fists clenched up. He immediately headed inside where the aftermath of the explosion was concentrated as he tried to hold himself together.
But upon entering the temple, he gave way and teared up. He couldn’t hold it in anymore, he felt powerless for what he saw. The devastation that had happened. To see his own people dead. Mt. Mjior could be thought as the safest place in the realm where they won’t have to worry about dying, but there they were, lifeless.
A cough echoed in the silent hall and he immediately turned. He looked around frantically and found the sound coming from the basement stairs where a guard was barely alive, crawling and clinging to his own life.
“Calm down, soldier! It’s me!” he shouted when the guard finally opened his bloodshot eyes filled with fear.
“My, my king,” the guard clinged to him. “I’m sorry. I did my best, but—” then the guard coughed blood all over the floor.
“I know, soldier. Tell me what happened. What do you remember?” he said as he held the guard’s hand.
“We were blinded, Sire! A bright flash suddenly came from it,” then the guard coughed blood yet again.
“What do you mean? Speak up,” he said as he tried to calm down the soldier who began to weep.
“Tell my brother I’m sorry. Sire! — a blinding pink light bursted and my friends were killed in an instant. Sire, I’m sorry—” then the guard gasped for one last breath and coughed his blood and then, he stopped breathing. The guard died in his arms.
Pink light, he thought as the people around him then took the body while he sat on the ground staring into space.
“Impossible,” he uttered to himself. “It couldn’t be — could it?” he said as the guard that came down the stairs ran back up.
“Sire, the floor has been blown off, like something has been dug out from there,” a guard shouted.
He slowly turned towards the guard. “What?”
“Sire, it appears someone must’ve been buried here. The hole here, it is empty,” the guard pointed at the gaping hole in the floor.
He slowly stood and began to walk downstairs and had a look for himself. He found more dead waveniers lay on the temple floor. He walked towards the hole in the ground and saw, a very old emblem carved on the ground.
“What does that symbol mean?” he asked.
Then one of the waveniers that came with them had a look and said, “It’s the symbol of the Hawk, Sire,”
It did not make sense. More importantly, why was the body in the first place.
The wavenier stood beside him and said, “That’s the emblem of the rebel hawk.” He looked at the mark as the priest continued to talk, “Books told tales about him. It was the onset of the Great War eons ago. He was the one responsible for the falcon-kind to take refuge in the great tree. Before the Gorge fell to the deepest depths of the earth.”
“I know that. But I wasn’t aware about him being responsible for the great migration,” Ravaen quickly pointed out. The wavenier only smiled at him and chuckled.
“It was because you walked out of that class,” the priest chuckled. “Your teacher was a friend of mine back then and he said that you skipped his class almost every day.” Then the priest looked at the stone once more.
“His name was somehow erased from the books because of his rebellion,” the priest said.
“My father told me that story when I was still a child,” Ravaen said. “It was because he wanted to fight the elves who were settling below the tree. They wanted the tree somehow. We didn’t know why and he wanted to fight back against the invaders. The old council back then deemed it unnecessary for them to fly down. But this falcon wanted to do just that. So he brought a handful of battalions with him. It did not end as he wanted. He spoke to an Elvish prince who already saw the coming slaughter. The prince knew that he was different from the rest of the falcons. So the elves withdrew,”
“Upon his return he was branded as a hawk and was exiled for doing what he thought was right.”
The priest sighed and put his arms behind him.
“Well, thanks to him. We can call the Great Tree our home,” Ravaen said.
End of chapter VIII
IX: The Lord Paramount
Graveloth walked towards the council hall, which was formerly the royal citadel that housed the royal family of the Kra’ens. He walked as his steps left its mark on the slightly thick snow that covered the city. Still, the iron city of Mathron thrived. The tattered banners of the former royal family of Jaghjourns were buried in the snow.
He breathed hard and exhaled the cold mist as he remembered that faithful day of his return from the call of the former Imperial Archbishop. The city was in unrest because of what he did. Not because it brought dishonor to the entire Kra’ens, but it brought in much needed respect and honor and the fact that the he became the symbol of the common Kra’en’s growing defiance to the royal family, who slandered the riches to feed their own greed. The rest of the Iron Kingdom was in poverty despite having the best mines in the entire continent — probably even the entire world, and their ore of precious kra’enite was not as cheap as it may appear. It was far too precious than just being naturally honed for magic and it was comparable to the holenshartz that the empire possessed. It could be turned into jewels, that only the royal family relished.
The moment he left for the call of the Prime Minister, the people spoke out of the royal family and from then on, everything went downhill. The Jaghjourns fell from power and the people ruled Mathron. He became the temporary Lord
Paramount of the Iron Kingdom until everything had settled, and he settled it quickly — with the help of the Orderians.
They helped in forming a council system of governance and he immediately stepped down from his position, much to the dismay of the people who chose him but later accepted his decision out of respect. He was awarded the title he previously declined to keep and became the General of the Iron Kra’en Army.
He stopped infront of the citadel’s gates and looked at the banners of the Kra’ens it bore the kingdom’s new sigil – a hammer and a blade across each other, but instead of the old family crest of the royal family of the Jaghjourns, it now bore its old symbol of the Great Animos God Nawunier that represented their love for mining and of precious stones of the earth. He took a deep breath and the gates slowly opened for him. Guards immediately saluted him, “Lord Paramount!” they said as he walked past them.
He did not like the title but he had no choice. He awkwardly had the guards at ease and laughed a bit and headed straight towards the council hall. He entered the citadel and unlike before it was well lit. The banners hung from the ceilings, bearing the new insignia of the Iron Kingdom. He removed his hood and slowly took off his cloak.
Ah, warmth, he thought as he walked the iron halls. He could hear something faint from behind another door. He took another deep breath and he pushed the doors open and the faint sounds from a while ago turned loud.
It was the newly chosen councilors trying to make up for lost time.
“So shall the new ordinance for the mines be effective, immediately,” another said and a gavel echoed inside as he carefully sat with the people inside. A guard quickly took the letter from the lord councilor who sat at the top with his gavel and a silver robe with a hat of gold and silver, which made him effectively the ruler of the Iron Kingdom.
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