Dariak closed his eyes and focused his mind on the jades, wondering what he should do next. Like seeing a man atop a faraway hill, he knew the power was within, but it was so far away that he could not reach it. He wondered how he could restore their strength, for he would need their support to maintain the newfound peace in Hathreneir and also to quell the fighting with Kallisor.
Yet as he sat there communing with the jades, he only felt a cold and unwelcoming silence.
Chapter 2
Chancellor Kitalla
“Excuse me, is someone home? Please open the door,” Kitalla said in her most polite tone. Her long dark brown hair was tied in a tail behind her head and her deep brown eyes glinted with authority. Word of her visits had already spread throughout the castle town and the people did all they could to avoid her. In her opinion, it made this game all the more entertaining, and infuriating.
She rapped on the door a second time. “I did just follow you back from the market. I know you’re home. Open this door, please.”
After some scuffling sounds, the door shook and then moved. An older woman huddled behind the door, which she had barely opened. “Sorry, miss, I didn’t hear you.”
“Very well,” Kitalla utter sweetly. “You know who I am, I presume, and why I have come?”
“I can’t say I do, my lady.”
Kitalla had no idea why all the townsfolk insisted on playing this game. Three other conversations that selfsame day had started in precisely the same manner. They didn’t seem to realize that wasting her time was a bad idea. “I am Chancellor Kitalla, advisor to the Regent Dariak who has assumed control of this locale after surrender by your glorious king.”
“What a charming welcome,” the old woman lied.
“As you must know, the recent events have brought turmoil to you and your fellows. There are many families displaced from their homes and in need of housing. I am here to assign some folks to reside here.” She pulled out a scroll and offered it to the woman, who made no effort to reach for it.
“A wonderful obligation,” the woman breathed. “Yet there aren’t any spare rooms in my little hovel. I’ll keep your needs in mind if my situation changes. Thank you for coming.” And with that, she slammed the door.
Kitalla drew a deep breath to steady herself and cracked her knuckles in anticipation. Then with a hearty kick, she blasted down the door, stripping it from its hinges, and smacking the old woman in the face and pummeling her to the ground. Kitalla shook her head; she had even given the fool a few seconds to get out of the way first.
Stepping inside, Kitalla first hoisted the wood door off the woman then continued her one-sided conversation in a loud shout. “Since you clearly cannot hear my words, you force me to speak to you in this fashion. I did not come to your abode requesting space. I came to assess how much you will surrender. And because you have been so cooperative, you will enjoy a greater chance to help your kingdom by extending the duration for which your help is required.” She cleared her throat and only then pulled the woman to her feet.
“Have you any questions?” Kitalla said softly.
The woman scowled and it was clear she wanted to spit in the chancellor’s face, but she controlled herself. It certainly wouldn’t do to anger this woman further.
“The tour please,” Kitalla requested, lowering her tone now that she had made her point.
Grudgingly, the woman escorted Kitalla through the small house. There were two bedrooms, a kitchen, and an extra workroom, where the woman had a loom and various cloths and threads. After the walkthrough, the woman brought Kitalla to the front door and waited for her to leave.
“A nice house.” Kitalla nodded. “I would almost want to stay here myself.” The woman’s face immediately went white with panic, as Kitalla had intended. “But it is a curious little place.”
“W—What do you mean?”
“Well, first of all, one of those rooms upstairs was rather empty. I thought you were fully stocked up here on residents.”
“I—well, it is my son’s room and he keeps it sparse in there.” She started fidgeting with her fingers.
“Indeed? He wouldn’t happen to be off fighting in the east, would he?” The woman bit her lip and looked away, confirming Kitalla’s suspicions. “Then he is not going to need this place for some time, I would think. Much obliged. A small family could camp out in there.”
Though Kitalla was new to the area and her role was only recently invented, even the old woman knew she could not refute this demand. Anyone who had resisted too far met with support from the throne itself, complete with a contingent of soldiers under Ieran’s name. No one knew how long this new regime would last but they had to play along with it for now.
The woman visibly folded. “Very well. A small family then. I know times are hard, but my son is all I have left. I didn’t want his place disturbed. Forgive me.”
Kitalla touched her hand to her heart and nodded as sincerely as she could muster. “I do forgive you, and I do truly understand your pain.” Slowly she smiled and the woman wilted even further, fearing what was to come next. “It is a charming house, like I said,” Kitalla started. “But I was wondering…”
The woman swallowed nervously but did not prompt Kitalla to continue.
“I could not help but notice a few things. First of all, wherever do you store your food? That kitchen you showed me was functional, but it was barely more than a firepit.”
“Food is scarce,” was the terse reply.
“That must explain the other bit, then. No privy. Not inside. Not outside. That would certainly explain why you are so irritable.” She then turned her gaze sharply on the woman. “Or do you expect me to believe that you go to the tavern to take care of such business?”
Clearly, the woman wanted Kitalla to believe that, but also it was clear that pursuing such a farce would anger the chancellor even more. Without pretense, the woman growled and then led Kitalla to a somewhat hidden door that led to a floor downstairs.
The basement was crowded with all sorts of supplies, from cooking utensils to extra furniture. The entire horde looked as though Kitalla’s visit was expected and the woman had hidden everything from blankets to forks. A standard privy was sectioned off in the corner, too.
“Much better,” Kitalla announced. “Now, let us walk through the house once more and you can show me all the other little hidey-holes.”
“There’s noth—”
Kitalla raised an eyebrow and the woman silenced at once. “The outside of your house is bigger than the inside. Even the floor plan down here is larger than what you showed me upstairs. You Hathrens are a crafty lot. So many of these homes have hidden rooms and walkways. It is truly amazing. Chancellor Ieran never alerted me to such designs, but they’re commonplace, aren’t they?”
At last the homeowner dropped her aloof visage. “Fine, you brat. We may need to follow your demands for a time, but it won’t be forever, you realize.”
“Oh?” Kitalla asked, her voice lilting with innocence.
The woman saw the threat in Kitalla’s eyes and she gulped, wondering if she had overstepped her bounds. “What’s the real reason you’re here?”
“Finding homes for refugees, as I said.”
“Not trying to see if the king is hiding here?”
Kitalla did not react. Instead she waited for the woman to say more or to give something away with her movements, but she didn’t. “You can’t find him and you think that by searching our homes for him, you’ll squirrel him out. And once you check a place, you pack it with strangers who owe you a debt and keep an eye on it for you. A crafty plan, I will have to say.”
“Thank you. I came up with it myself.”
The woman sneered. “You won’t find the king here. So come and I’ll show you every nook and cranny. I hope you’re not afraid of spiders.”
“Spiders don’t bother me,” Kitalla dismissed. “Close-minded people do, however. I have to tell you one thing, though. Maybe you ca
n help.”
“I will not help you!”
“No, I suspect you wouldn’t. But the sooner we find the king and put him back on the throne, the sooner the Regent and I skip out of town.”
“Put him back—” The woman caught herself and hated that Kitalla had triggered a reaction. With a snarl, she added, “As if. You just want to flush him out so you can finish off killing him.”
Kitalla laughed. “Yes, because I so enjoy telling people to open up their homes to strangers and ruining their daily routines.”
“You certainly look like you’re enjoying yourself.”
“Gotta make the best of things in any situation,” she responded lightly. “Now, you were about to tell me which way the king went.”
The woman shook her head. “While you waste your time with all of this nonsense, you’ll wake up one day and see that the king has returned and you won’t be able to stop him regardless of what wild magic you have at your disposal. You won’t be able to kill us all before you die.”
“I see. So you admit to being part of an uprising. That does sound rather traitorous.”
“W—What?!”
“Come with me then. Your presence is needed in the castle.” Then she corrected herself, “In the dungeon, rather. No, you won’t need your shawl.”
“You can’t do this!” the woman shrieked as Kitalla reached out to grab her arm. She bolted away and ran to her kitchen, grabbing a knife and holding it shakily at Kitalla.
The one-time thief stepped in and snapped the knife out the woman’s hand so fast, she barely registered Kitalla’s movement. “What will it be, then? The king? Or the castle?”
The woman tried to run, but Kitalla stuck her foot out and grounded her. “Don’t kill me,” the woman cried.
“You Hathrens just don’t listen.” She sighed. “We came here to speak to the king. He sent out soldiers. We tried to hand over refugees of your own land and the king tried to kill them. It was never our intent to attack you or to kill you. You don’t understand it now because you’re still hung up on being hateful and angry, but we’re here to end the fighting all around. Wouldn’t you rather your son come home alive than die in a stupid, needless battle?
“For now, we need to get this place back in shape. That requires people like you making sacrifices for others who are less fortunate. You can expect twenty visitors by tomorrow. You will make them feel welcome here, and you will do your very best to accommodate their needs in your own meager little way.
“So few of you Hathrens were even willing to open your homes up to your fellows in need. But what if it was your home that was decimated? What would you have done then? You would have needed the kindness and willingness of others to care for you. The castle cannot support you right now and you would be turned aside. What then, you crazy woman?”
Kitalla took a deep breath. “Once everyone is settled in, we will be putting out work demands on rotating shifts. So it isn’t as if all the people assigned to this place will always be in here. They just need a home base until they can fix up a home for themselves. But everyone is pitching in, even you.
“Selfish Hathrens,” Kitalla muttered, eying the woman who just stared up at her from the ground. “I hope our way rubs off on you, and I assure you that our way is not a Kallisorian way. No, it is a third way. A new way. It’s one that would bring all the people together and build a better world than what we have now.
“So, get off your floor. Stand up and think about a better world. Because king or no king, things are changing. No more tyranny like we have all endured for generations. No more raising children to send them off as fodder for war. No more of people dying because the kings refuse to work together. That’s the part we’re changing.”
The woman looked up at the impassioned speaker and she shook her head. “How?”
“It wasn’t our plan to destroy the castle, but since the damage was done, we’re using this opportunity to make you all band together. That’s my real purpose, if you must know. Diplomacy is not my talent, lady. I’d much rather toss this knife across the room with a dozen others and show you where my skills lie. But this is vitally important. You all have to come to understand that it is time for less selfishness and more openness. And in time it will be easier.
“But for now, let’s take a real tour of your house.”
With a disgruntled sigh, the woman did as she was commanded, keeping a wary eye on the knife Kitalla kept in hand. After another hour or so, Kitalla was satisfied that no one was hiding.
“Very well, then. I will be going. Expect visitors.” With that, Kitalla tossed the blade, letting it land barely an inch away from the woman’s foot. Heaving an unhappy sigh, Kitalla stepped from the house and moved on to the next.
Chapter 3
Ieran’s Allegiance
Progress in the castle town was slow. Many people still needed permanent living arrangements, but few places remained for anyone to go to. Clearing out the rubble from the front of the castle was taking longer than expected, too; for each piece that was pulled away, more stones fell from the rest of the structure. Dariak and the others were at a loss on the best way to proceed.
“It’s not looking good among the people, either,” Kitalla added. “They’re definitely hiding something from us. And I believe they will rebel against us before long.”
“I don’t believe that,” Ieran said.
“You would benefit from making us believe that if you’re helping them,” Kitalla offered.
The gray-haired chancellor’s face erupted into an expression of outrage. “You dare! I have thrown my lot in to help bring these matters to a peaceful resolution during your stay.”
“During our stay,” Kitalla echoed. “Precisely my point. Once you kick us out, you won’t need to comply any longer.”
“Kitalla, this isn’t helping,” Dariak groaned. He looked like he had aged fifteen years in the past three weeks. “Ieran, we need to find the king, explain our purpose here, and then bring the Kallisorian king around. Isn’t there any way…?”
The older man shook his head. “I have no knowledge of the king’s whereabouts nor how to find him.”
“Convenient,” Kitalla scoffed.
Gabrion banged his fist on the table. “Kitalla, that’s enough!” The young warrior pierced her with his gaze. He was nearly seven years younger than her but he was the only one who could speak to her in such a manner and not incur her anger. “You’ve been stuck among the people for too long. You’re losing sight of what we’re here for.”
She raised her eyebrow and shook her head. “Oh, Gabrion, calm yourself. I’m merely pointing out that we’re strangers here and we can’t necessarily trust Ieran. What’s the harm in letting him know our suspicions?” She swiveled around to look at the king’s advisor. “You know I harbor no ill feelings for you, I would hope, but I can’t naïvely accept that you’re doing everything to help us. You may say you’re on our side and understand our beliefs, but people don’t change so quickly.”
Ruhk laughed. The Hathren commander drew the attention of everyone at the gathering. “You’re right there, I will admit. Though Gabrion here did spin my head around to your line of thinking, it was no easy matter. Indeed, it took a show of force on his part that coerced me to even listen, if I valued my life. And just when we were breaking through the barriers of discrimination, we were attacked. I was ready to pull my men away and battle in the name of great Hathreneir, but the king had heard of our collaborations with traitors, and so we were instantly branded the same. We were all cast off by our king without any chance to speak of our actions. It left us with nowhere to turn, unless we joined Gabrion’s team.”
Ieran shrugged. “Some say you should have fought anyway and taken the chance of earning your place back in the king’s graces.”
But Ruhk was unconvinced. “No, sir. Defection is unaccepted here. Even if we had brought down the Kallisorian king, our penalty was known. In that moment, life was the better alternative for us.�
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“It’s the same in Kallisor,” Gabrion chimed in. “Dariak and a Hathren team decimated my hometown, but because I brought the mage to the king alive rather than dead, I was seen as a possible collaborator and sentenced to the same death.”
“Lucky for me you didn’t take him up on his offer for freedom,” Dariak said.
“I couldn’t have killed you in cold blood, Dariak. Not even then.” He turned back to Ieran. “You’ve looked out for your people in our time here, as well you should. Yet it’s clear that you don’t fully support our ideals.”
Ieran’s back straightened, worried about where this was headed. “Is that so? What else must I do to convince you all of my loyalty?”
“Loyalty?” Kitalla laughed. “You served your liege for how many years, but now that we’re here, you turn immediately to serve us? Where is your loyalty aimed? Your own survival?”
“Kitalla,” Randler intervened. The bard sat in a larger chair than the others, for his legs were still damaged and weak, and they were encased in the living crutches the forest leader Astrith had crafted for him, though their effectiveness was greatly reduced at the time being. Randler ran his fingers through his cinnamon-colored hair and let his warm voice soothe them all. “Ieran has shown his loyalty without wavering. He is here for his people and for them alone. Surely he has had some disagreements with his king over his own beliefs. His support of us is no different, for if we continue to fight today, then more of his people will suffer. It is, thus, to his benefit and ours if we work as one.”
“Until their king returns,” Kitalla appended. “That’s my point, Randler, Dariak, everyone. This is a false calm. It isn’t the peace we’re seeking. I see it in all of my dealings with the people in the town. They’re just biding their time, waiting for the resurgence to begin.”
Carrus, a warrior of Kallisor who joined Dariak’s army before their journey into Hathreneir and who was recently promoted to captain, asked, “What would you have us do, then?”
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