“So close to your wedding?” Ardontis asked.
“Well, barring one of my own men taking me down, I don’t plan on not coming back,” Oedipus said, laughing.
“We wish you well then,” Ardontis said, turning his gaze to Verian. “And what news do you have for us, Verian? Any new magical happenings around the realm?”
“The shifters are restless,” he began with a tone that calmed the men in the room. “Word of a possible alliance with shifters and Gillian has been floating through the realm. They are worried they have been forsaken by their kin. As we all know, shifters have never fought against each other and wish to keep that peace.”
“I knew it,” Osiris said, slamming his fist on the table. “My own blood is betraying the very kingdom that gave them the ability to be free from poverty many years ago. By none other than my father and the former king. Traitorous.”
“Calm yourself, Osiris,” Ardontis snapped. “There has been peace between the realms for over a hundred years. Until this rumor finds any validity, there is no reason to strike. We are not looking to start a war for no reason.”
“Nor can we afford one,” Lord Chirus stated, his crackly, deep voice drawing the attention of those at the table. “We barely have enough to sustain our kingdom with the crops gone and our need to import from other realms. The last expense we need is war.”
“Our freedom and rule are hardly something you can put a price tag on, Chirus,” Osiris said bitterly.
“Well,” Chirus replied, “if your choice is to fight with the bones of those in our kingdom dying from starvation, be my guest. But money for new steel for weapons is not within our reach.”
“How dare you mock me,” Oedipus said in a low voice. “Be careful, old man, or your bones will be the first to be utilized.”
“Gentlemen,” Ardontis spoke loudly, “fighting among ourselves is pointless. Oedipus, we need to find the money for your attention to war. Remember, you are tasked with the safety of our realm, while Chirus specifically does the counts. He only speaks the truth to you, and no more.”
Oedipus sat back arrogantly and motioned to Ida for a refill of his cup. She scurried forward, pausing to top off the king’s first. The commander took a long drink and placed his cup back down, fiddling with the etchings as silence crept through the room.
“What say you, Your Grace?” Oedipus asked firmly but with respect as he looked to Osiris. “Money is scarce, and if we continue to fiddle with numbers, the more our country falls into decay until the old man has an empty ledger.”
“I say as I have said before,” Osiris said without much thought. “I am aware of the issues we are facing, but jumping into a war that may be no more than the wagging tongues of our realm is pointless and reckless. You focus on the dragons and your wedding to my daughter. For now, we will monitor. Send two of your shifters out this afternoon and have them report back their findings.”
The king’s request for a scouting mission pleased Oedipus enough to move away from the talk of war and onto to other mundane issues in the kingdom. The meeting seemed to drag on as Osiris’ mind flittered back and forth between war and having the evening to himself. When the meeting was completed, the men left, leaving Oedipus, Ardontis, and the king standing at the front of the meeting room. They watched as the servants took their cue and scurried from the hall.
“I’ll be taking the horse and wagons this time,” Oedipus stated. “I will not come back without these dragons.”
“Be safe,” the king said, patting Oedipus on the shoulder and watching as he took his leave.
“That was less painful than usual,” Ardontis said as the two men walked out of the room and toward the dungeon stairs. When it came to the king’s request for his thoughts on things, Ardontis requested they speak in his chambers, where he knew their conversation would only be heard by damp, dark hallways and rats scurrying along the corridors. The king hated going into the dungeons, but he knew his thoughts would be safe there.
The king pulled his robes close to him as they descended the stone staircase into the darkness of the dungeon. Ardontis had been there so long it didn’t bother him, but Osiris could remember following his father down as a child–on the outside, holding a demeanor of bravery, but on the inside, being terrified of the stretches of tunnels underneath the castle. If he had it his way, he would have a locked door at the top of the staircase.
Once inside Ardontis’ room, the king relaxed a bit and sat down in the large chair facing Ardontis’ desk. The Faith stood momentarily until the king nodded for him to sit comfortably. The king looked around the room as if he had never been there before, though he had spent much of his time after his wife’s death in council in that very room. He crossed his legs at the ankles and stretched them out in front of him.
“I am sure your whispering mouths have told you that I am planning to hand the crown over once Leonetta is wed,” the king stated. “But, that being said, I am beginning to worry about the kingdom’s future with Oedipus. I need your kind assurance for my restless mind.”
“Your Grace,” Ardontis said placing his hands on his lap. “You will remain on the council, I presume?” He watched as the king nodded. “Oedipus looks to you for guidance; he always has. He will follow your instruction.”
The king looked to the side, beginning to sink into his own thoughts. Ardontis played the princess’ words over in his mind, knowing it was pertinent that the king give his crown to Oedipus in order for their plan to take flight. He stood and walked around the room, thinking of the best words, stopping as a lightbulb went off in his mind.
“I shall draw up a decree,” he said, turning to the King. “It will explain that once the king hands his crown to the successor, he is able to take the throne back in the case that the successor is not suitable to fulfill the title under the gods. You, for all intents and purposes, are still the chosen one, even after you move from the throne.”
The king sat quietly for a moment, rolling Ardontis’ words over in his mind. Ardontis stood frozen, worried the king had taken his thoughts as treasonous instead of truthful. He knew the king had become weary and tired and wouldn’t take the throne back unless absolutely necessary. Luckily, later on, these types of choices could be changed. For now, though, a decree under the gods from Osiris would ease his mind and keep him from changing it, keeping Avalon in dismay and seizing Leonetta’s plans.
“This is a brilliant idea,” the king replied, a look of excitement in his eyes. “Do this immediately, but keep it quiet until after the wedding. You have relieved my mind, Ardontis.”
Ardontis bowed as the king stood from his chair and pulled his robes back around him. He walked to the door, flung it open, and quickly scurried back through the dungeon halls. The Faith stayed behind, smiling to himself, proud of the wit he had exhibited. Once the king reached the stairwell, he made haste back to his chambers, longing for the quiet of his room. As he approached the chamber doors, he grimaced slightly at the sight of Oedipus standing there, holding a folded and sealed paper in his hand.
“Your Grace,” he said, bowing. “I have a letter from Allenforth, where Lady Mary is staying with her sisters.”
The king showed Oedipus into the room, slightly worried, considering he never heard from Mary unless she were in the kingdom visiting Leonetta. She had married the king, knowing he would never love her, but the idea of taking care of the king’s daughter and having her family safe was enough for her to live in a loveless marriage. She was cared for, and the king made sure to always speak with respect to her, realizing a fondness for her presence from time to time.
“Well,” the king said, taking a deep breath and facing out the window, “read it aloud then.”
Oedipus released the wax seal and unraveled the parchment. He took in a deep breath realizing the letter was from the King and not from Mary. He was too afraid to read ahead, so he spoke the words as they met his eyes.
Dearest Friend,
I hope this letter meets you in good health and har
mony. Unfortunately, this letter is not in good news. In the early hours, just after Mary had arrived in our care, she took the mare from the stable to go on her normal, early morning ride through the countryside. After the early morning sun had reached a peak in the sky and Mary had yet to return, we sent the guards to search for her. As they marched through the hill approaching the mountains, they found Mary’s horse with a letter pinned to the sash.
Rebel forces from Gillian had been close to the borders for a moon’s cycle but had shown no signs of harmful intention. However, once they came across Mary, and upon realization of her kingdom affiliation, they took her. The note states that she will be kept alive, but it lists several demands, including your immediate reply. I ask that you suit your men and travel the distance to Allenforth, where my armies are poised to assist in anything we may do to help you fulfill the wishes of the rebels and retrieve the Lady Mary.
In best regards,
King Levontis III of the realm of Allenforth and the Kingdom of Trello
As the words rolled from Oedipus’ mouth, he could feel the hair stand on the back of his neck. He watched as the king silently stood at the window looking out over the gardens surrounding the castle. His blood pressure began to rise at the thought of the sweet Lady Mary in the clutches of Gillian forces.
“Ready the horses,” the King replied. “We ride for Allenforth tonight.”
“Your Grace,” Oedipus began carefully, “don’t you believe that your kingdom needs the stability of its king in these hard times? Allow me to go in your stead. We will get the Lady Mary back.”
“For years,” the king said, turning to Oedipus, “I have wasted away in this castle, waiting for a sign from the gods that my reign as king was for nothing more than their amusement. It is time I stood from the rusty legs of that old throne and acted like a true king, as my father would have. Ready the horses.”
“Your Grace,” Oedipus stated, bowing and backing toward the door. He left the room and waited for the door to shut behind him, a smile creeping over his face. He would finally have the war he had been waiting for, and everything was aligning just as it should.
Chapter Four: Friends or Enemies
“Make sure the Lady Mary is comfortable,” Artus said to the guards outside of her tent. “She is nothing more than a placeholder for the king. It is not her fault.”
The guard nodded at Artus before turning and walking toward the white, billowing cloth blowing in the wind from the valley between the mountains. There was truth behind his words, and part of Artus felt that capturing Lady Mary was cruel, especially since King Osiris had never shown her the love a wife to the king should have. But this was the beginning, the first step in Artus’ attempt to take the Kingdom of Thorn and restore Avalon to the beautiful place it once was. The king of the realm of Gillian, Ballus, had given intentions to take the throne, and it was up to Artus, the commander of his forces, to bring Thorn to its knees.
Artus was no tyrant and had accepted the position of commander with the assurance that the king believed in a slave-less nation, where dragon shifters and all other creatures were treated with reverence. Gillian had become that exact place after Ballus took the throne, but it caused tensions between them and Osiris’ father. Long ago, Avalon had brought Gillian back from the brink of destruction but now held very different ideas of a kingdom’s rule. As the years passed and Avalon fell into despair, Ballus began his plans to take the realm from Osiris and give it back to the people.
Though their intent was not to approach Thorn until training of the army was complete, Artus had stumbled across Lady Mary on his way back from securing provisions in towns just over the edge of Allenforth and seized the moment. She was a brave woman, and she came with ease. Lady Mary had known Artus for years, and though she knew she was in harm’s way, she understood fighting would do no good. Artus escorted the lady to a safe place inside his camp and sent word to the king of his actions. At first, the king was unsure, but once Artus reminded him of Osiris’ daughter’s nuptials, he agreed this was a perfect time. They hoped Osiris would cave to their demands in an effort to save the future of his kingdom, but nothing was for sure.
Artus walked out to the edge of camp and looked across the rocky landscape leading up to the Allenforth Mountains. His dark, wavy hair blew wildly in the wind, and his deep muscles tightened at the chill in the air. He rubbed his hands up and down his unclothed arms, coming to a stop as his hand brushed the handle of his sword. Nothing was more intense than the feeling of imminent war. He knew deep down Osiris would never bend to the types of demands they made.
The sounds of bells chiming for chow broke Artus’ thoughts, and he turned toward the camp, now almost invisible in the dark except for the few fires burning in the center. The smell of meat and vegetables wafted through the air, and he realized he hadn’t eaten for a day or so. The mood in the camp was jolly, and the soldiers all sat around joking, eating, and laughing. This was the mood he liked to see, knowing in the back of his mind that many of these men would be dead when it was all done. Keeping a joyous attitude was good for them. Artus knew the tactics of Oedipus all too well, and if he didn’t pull something despicable, he would be surprised.
He took a full plate that the chow lead handed him, grabbed a cup of mead, and sat down in the dirt behind the singing soldiers around the fire. He leaned back, enjoying his food, and listening to the old melodies the men sang. A whoosh of air blew through the camp and Artus looked over to see a blowing pile of dirt washing through the air. The shifters were slowly returning from their rounds at the sound of chow bells. A shadow blocked the light of the fire, and Artus looked up at his right-hand man, Mistrious, who was standing there smiling, spilling part of his cup of wine on Artus’ boots.
“Sit down, you fool,” Artus said, laughing. Mistrious took a seat next to him and sipped on his full cup. He rubbed his belly and wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his dirty, woven shirt.
“You think he will cave?” Mistrious asked, still staring into the fire.
“Not a chance,” Artus said with a chuckle.
“Then there is only one last thing to do,” Mistrious replied.
“What’s that?” Artus asked, looking at him with curiosity.
“Why, get drunk, my friend!” Mistrious laughed as he pulled himself to his feet. “And dance!”
Artus laughed as he watched the big goon of a man dance frivolously around the fire. The men cheered at his merriment. He was a large man with a long, brown beard, and stood nearly seven-feet tall. He was a master at strategy and kept the camp on its toes with his practical jokes and sarcastic personality. Artus felt honored to have him lead at his side.
When he had finished his plate, he took it back to the chow tent to be cleaned and walked back out to the edge of the plains. It was dark, but the moon was halfway through its cycle and illuminated parts of the rocky terrain. Clouds were blowing through the sky with speed as the winds began to pick up. Artus glanced over at Lady Mary’s tent and walked toward it, formulating a thought on what he should say. The guard nodded as he lifted the white cloth entrance, and Artus stepped inside. They had made a bed of blankets and pillows for the lady, and she sat among them, picking at the food they had brought. She looked up at Artus with caution as he entered.
“What do you want?” she asked with irritation.
“Lady Mary,” he said, bowing slightly, “I have come to make sure you are comfortable.”
“As comfortable as a lady can be on the cold ground,” she said, looking back down at her plate. “I hope you know you picked a poor bargaining tool with me. Osiris will not choose me over his kingdom.”
The wind whipped feverishly outside the thin linen sheets of the tent, casting moving shadows of the candlelight. Lady Mary, though plain, was beautiful. Her long, blonde hair was held back with a red, silken scarf, and her dress flowed around her in the blankets. Her riding boots were set to the side, and she watched Artus as he glanced around the room.
“Is that all?” she asked, setting her plate on the floor. “I’d like to try to sleep before you behead me.”
“I have no intention of harming you,” Artus replied.
“You don’t make the rules,” she stated. “Ballus does, and when my husband refuses your ridiculous demands, Ballus will do it himself.”
“Get some sleep,” he said, bowing before turning and walking out of the tent. He nodded to the guards and began to meander toward his own, tired from the long day. There was no use conversing with Lady Mary; she would never trust him.
As he walked toward his tent, a shimmer caught his eye, and he looked up into the sky. There was movement above him, but he couldn’t figure out what it was until it crossed in front of the moon. High in the mountain night sky was a dragon, and not one of his. As the light from the moon shown across the dragon’s scales, he could see tints of orange and red, and two glowing eyes looking down at him. The dragon seemed familiar, and Artus paused a moment, attempting to see if any other dragons were with him. As he watched the sparkling scales of the massive dragon fly in the direction of Avalon, a twinge of anger fell over him. It was one of the king’s slave shifters flying overhead. It was impossible it had gotten here so quickly, and Artus assumed the dragon didn’t know Lady Mary was in the glowing tent at the site.
He turned and entered his tent, feeling this might be the last good night’s sleep he would have for a while. Soon, Osiris would be reaching Allenforth, and once he read the demands from Ballus and his men, he would make it a point to find Artus and start a war–something Oedipus had been itching to do for years.
As the frigid wind blew through the night air, Artus could hear the roars of the dragons in the distance, a noise that didn’t soothe him one bit.
Chapter Five: Strategy
Leonetta lay her head on the soft, yellow fabric of her mother’s bench, now stained with her tears. How many mothers would she lose in this life? Mary had taken care of her since she was barely a year old and had tamed her fears, when her father would scream and yell at her as a child. She was kind, and Leonetta loved her like she was her own mother.
War of the Realms Box Set Page 4