The arctic wind that crawled through the city, leaving icicles and weather on every inch of structure, now blew stronger than ever. An ill omen of things to come. Ludvic took in the sight before him and felt a shiver run deep through his frame. Greonwold Hall loomed ahead, surrounded by snow-flaked pines that were planted centuries before, at the city's birth. The chamber of the northern rulers was a dark building covered in archaic ruins that depicted long forgotten rituals and sacrifices, once a norm in the wastes of Feldom. Granite and black marble formed the high walls that surrounded the hall and a triangular roof, made of birch sleepers, gave the building an ancient appearance.
"You have come a long way, old friend," came a deep voice.
Ludvic looked to the bottom of the stairs that led up to the entrance and raised an eyebrow. "It seems that, no matter how hard I try, I cannot steer clear of the people I did not come here to see," he called back in good humour.
The man at the steps moved up to Ludvic. He was broad shouldered and had a trimmed black beard that matched his closely cropped hair, both speckled with grey. He wore a deep blue coat over a worn but still impressive shirt that marked his position as General. "I still have many bruises and broken bones to repay you for," he replied.
Ludvic clasped his childhood companion on the shoulder and felt an old warmth return to his bones. "It does me good to see you, Baethus. I have not seen enough friendly faces in the last few months."
"The fighting has begun," replied Baethus.
"That it has," repeated Ludvic solemnly. "And many good men have already died at the enemy's hand...We need your men. The forces of General Baethus Horrfull are still one of Feldom's most powerful weapons."
"It has been a long time since my knights have charged into battle under the flag of Feldom," replied Baethus. "But I assure you, this is not how I would have it."
"I do not blame you," Ludvic assured him. "I know there is nothing you can do whilst Baldoroff gives you orders."
Baethus sighed. "I long for the old days, Ludvic; rushing blindly into the enemy ranks. We were invincible back then."
Ludvic took a moment to remember his days in the army with Baethus. They had both fought together side by side until the very day that Ludvic had been enlisted into the Maloreichar. They had even commanded a ship together in the conflict against the Miirvkin of Numukh. "Those were good days," Ludvic agreed. "Simpler days."
"So I assume you did not come here to reminisce about our youth?"
Ludvic looked up to Greonwold Hall and shook his head. "I came to see if there is any shred of hope left to sway the mind of this deranged King of yours."
"Do not make me choose between you and Baldoroff, old friend. As much as I despise his judgement and rulings I cannot abandon our people. My loyalties will always lie foremost with the folk of the North."
"I ask nothing of you, Baethus. It is with Baldoroff that I must make my request. A request to put an end to this lunacy once and for all."
"Then go and bring peace to Feldom, Ludvic," returned Baethus.
"You make it sound as though this will be an easy task," replied Ludvic, rubbing his tired eyes. "It was good seeing you."
Baethus smiled and waved goodbye, but Ludvic could see a strong tinge of grief in his friend's smile. He passed Baethus and moved up to Baldoroff's council hall.
Four guards stood at the wide entrance, draped in thick leather armour and fur trimmed cloaks. They opened the doorway for Ludvic. He stepped inside the entryway and hung his cloak on a brass hook. The walkway to the next set of burnished doors was lined with fires that gave a necessary warmth to those entering from the cold outside. Ludvic thanked Skiye that he was finally granted a reprieve from the harsh fury of the elements. A small servant with a depraved look about him motioned for Ludvic to pass through into the next room and, as Ludvic stepped through, he cast the man a grateful look.
The doors opened up into a hall heated by so many fires that Ludvic felt he had been struck by a sudden fever. Fireplaces dotted the walls and throughout the hall lay deep pits that sent tendrils of smoke into the air. The windows in the room were positioned high up, causing the light to fall in strange angles upon the floor and giving the whole room a murky quality.
The first thing that Ludvic noticed was how decrepit Greonwold Hall now looked. Years before, when he had walked through this room of kings, it had been a thing of beauty. Where works of art and festive decorations lined the walls and columns, bringing a certain warmth and fondness to the heart. Now the cobwebs and grime of ages had crept into every crevice and it seemed as though it had been a lifetime since the hall had seen the touch of a servant.
Upon a long wooden chair, that was more a bed than a seat, sat the King of Auldney in his filthy, food stained, fur cloak. Ludvic gazed at him in disgust as he saw endless rings and items of extravagance hanging from the ruler's fat body. Yet behind the finery and jewels lay Baldoroff's dark eyes and pock marked skin that did little to hide his inner sickness. A long line of courtiers stood to the King's side, each waiting their turn for an audience with the corpulent monarch.
Ludvic waited patiently at the entrance and watched as Afhill Baldoroff listened with a bored expression to the requests and problems of the nobles addressing him. By his side stood a young serving girl whose only job it was to place slices of fruit, a rare commodity in the cold north, into Baldoroff's already overfull mouth. Long moments passed and the King made no motion to suggest he was aware of the Honour Guard's presence. Despite this, Ludvic made no move to introduce himself.
After the long line of waiting nobles grew to only a few and the long shadows crept along the floor to show the passing of hours, Baldoroff spoke out aloud. "Master Hammerfell, how long are you planning to stand in my hall unannounced. If it is your wish to become a permanent feature of my chamber then please, take a place next to the statues aligning the wall, but pray do not stand in the entryway of my hall for much longer. You are becoming an eye sore."
Ludvic's brow furrowed angrily and he stepped forward into the light. "Afhill!" he greeted, causing the King much displeasure. "How I have missed your cunning nature and kind mannered tongue."
"Strong words from a traitor," spat Baldoroff.
"I could say the same," shot back Ludvic in a powerful voice. The servants and nobles watching the exchange moved back to avoid any sudden outburst by the two men. "A dark shadow blankets the pale sky above Auldney, as the rotting core of its monarchy seeks to sow the final seed of ruin."
"Do not quote me the sayings of old," replied Baldoroff. "That old adage died long ago, along with the false ideals and indoctrinations of the disciples that marked the northern kings heretics."
"You and those before you where marked heretics in fair judgement. What madness you speak of to create Durraas' forsaken nation. It goes against everything that is right."
"What is right!" screamed Baldoroff, sending himself into a coughing fit. Once he had recovered, he moved his hand from his mouth and looked Ludvic dead straight in the eyes. "How far you Feldonians have come with your misguided ideals to believe that you are the ultimate and final judgement in this world. Who is Dieter Castaneda to say what is right or wrong? A witless inbred like him is no smarter than the savage Miirvkin who so long ago isolated themselves from us. It is Feldom itself that is in the wrong."
"Why do you speak in the third person?" asked Ludvic. "From what I have heard you are still part of the Feldonian nation. King Castaneda may allow you the title of king, but he is still the ruling body of these lands."
"These are my lands!" cried Baldoroff defiantly, anger burning in his eyes. "You have become foolish in your old age to come here by the whim of your master to speak to me like this. I will have you hung from the gallows by the sun's setting."
"Don't turn this into a personal battle between me and you. I work for this nation, not for the King, and what I say is what I truly believe. You will not succeed in the creation of Durraas."
Baldoroff shifted in his seat, coming to an
upright position. The fury in his eyes was barely contained and he once again burst into a fit of coughs, this one violently jerking his body. His attendants moved to help him and for a moment Ludvic almost pitied the man. Baldoroff pushed the help away and stood up. "So you have come here to tell me what I can and cannot do, Ludvic. You believe you are able to predict the future?"
"You have been given an ultimatum by King Castaneda and I am smart enough to realise that an arrogant mule such as yourself will not comply with his terms," replied Ludvic. "I have come here of my own free will to try and talk some sense into you. Prevent things from getting any worse. How can you do this as we stand at the beginning of the most crucial war that we have ever fought?"
"I do this because I now see the world through different eyes. I have made moves to ensure that my people will remain safe. Auldney will not suffer King Zephra's wrath when the Dargonians march their might out of Precedin."
These words shocked Ludvic deeply. "What deal have you struck, Afhill?"
"You need not worry yourself about such matters," answered Baldoroff. "Rest assured that I will go ahead with the creation of Durraas, with or without Dieter's approval."
"Then we will stop you," said Ludvic sternly.
"And risk civil war?" said Baldoroff smugly. "I think not."
"Don't take my warnings lightly. If necessary I will return and stop you myself," warned Ludvic.
Baldoroff erupted at these words. "You have threatened me for the last time." Ludvic felt strong hands grip his arms and struggled to free himself. "You have made your promises and I have made mine. You will hang before the sun sets. A fitting end for a swine, who long ago abandoned his people."
Ludvic cried out defiantly, but the scream died away as he was struck unconscious from behind.
Dawn of the Valiant (The Valerious Chronicles: Book One) Page 136