"…was worn by a Defender named Brother Maynard in the Nomadic Wars. My brother Rameus sent it to me from Avonshire last winter. It took weeks to pound out all of the dents and polish it back to its original form. It's a hobby of mine, actually, restoring antiques."
Sagaroth took his gaze away from the armor. "Ah yes, I had forgotten. You used to be a Lord General in King Edgar's army. In fact, wasn't it you who led the siege that captured the city of Denning?"
"That was ten years ago."
“Lord Ki Kalendeen, many questions have been left unanswered about that siege. As one general to another, how did you cause the city walls to collapse? That question has been puzzling many students of war and scholarship for the last ten some-odd years. Many of the scribes of Aragil have attributed it to sorcery.”
Lord Ki Kalendeen laughed deeply. “General, I assure you that there was nothing supernatural about destroying the walls. Sorcery! I hadn’t heard that one!”
“Please, sir. How was it done?”
Wiping a tear of laugher from his eye, Lord Ki Kalendeen shook his head, still grinning. “I’m sorry, General. That is a secret I’ll take with me to my grave. Some knowledge is too dangerous to share. And all of the soldiers that carried out my orders were sworn to secrecy, those that are still alive, anyway.”
The General gave a resigned sigh and changed the subject. "Why did you retire at such a young age? Elgannan could benefit from your experience."
Lord Alexander looked away. "Prince Nicolae and I had a bit of a falling out. He thought his sister should marry royalty, not mere nobility. And when he ascended to the throne after the death of King Edgar, I was… forced to retire."
"You're lovely wife is Arianna Northcott?"
"She was. She is now Arianna Ki Kalendeen." He turned his head towards David. "David, I would like to introduce you to General Lexar Sagaroth of Aragil. He is the Lord General of King Tyral."
"That's King Dorian, my Lord. Both Tyral and Eric has sadly passed away. Yes, your son and I have run into one another…quite literally."
Alexander's attention turned back to Sagaroth. "What? Prince Eric died? How?"
"He was killed in a hunting accident a mere two days after King Tyral passed away. Dorian was given the crown, as he was the next Endicott in line, since Prince Tobias had joined the Holy Defenders."
David's father turned and walked over to his throne. Sitting down, he looked deep in thought. No one said a word for nearly two minutes. Sagaroth looked at David uneasily. Finally, Lord Alexander spoke.
"From the letters my brother has written, I understand the Holy Church doesn't think too highly of Prince Dorian."
Sagaroth shifted uncomfortably. "That's King Dorian. And just between you and I, who cares what the church thinks."
Lord Ki Kalendeen stood up. "I do, General Sagaroth. As should you and your king."
"Ah. My apologies if I have offended, sir, but everyone is entitled to their own opinion, and I am sorry, but I will not lie about my feelings. The church is corrupt, more dedicated to matters of wealth and control than matters of spirituality."
"The Pontiff and the Arch Bishops have done quite a lot to root out the corruption that has plagued the church in times past."
Sagaroth smiled. "Symbolism over substance, in my opinion."
"Well, I don't want to stand here and argue with you. General Sagaroth, I'm sorry I don't have time to hold a formal diplomatic meeting, but as you have probably heard, my eldest son is getting married today, and I am very busy. You and your men are, of course, welcome to stay for the ceremony, and also for the wedding feast. Stay as long as you wish and enjoy the hospitality of Castle Ki Kalendeen. Perhaps we can meet again in a few days."
"Thank you, Lord Ki Kalendeen. I'm sure my men will appreciate your kind and generous offer, as do I."
Sagaroth gave a deep bow and turned to leave. He winked at David as he passed.
Lord Alexander walked over to David and put his arm around him. They were both silent until Sagaroth closed the door behind him.
"What do you think, David? Shall we keep him under guard or let him have free reign of the castle?"
David looked up, startled. "Why are you asking me, Father?"
"I am interested in your opinion. What would you do in my situation?"
A crease appeared in David's young brow. What should he say? There were at least one hundred reasons to decide either way. He started to breathe more quickly, biting his lip.
"Don't worry. I've already made my decision. I'm just testing your judgment." He looked down at David and gave his youngest son a squeeze.
"Um, I would let him walk free."
"Why?"
"Because he is a diplomatic ambassador?" The uncertainty showed heavy in David's voice. A wide grin from his father told him he had given the correct answer. He exhaled in a sigh of relief. "Father, why did you call me into your court today? I thought only you and Alexander were ever allowed in here when you were judging."
Lord Ki Kalendeen took his hand from David and walked back slowly to his throne. He sat down before he spoke. "I found Alexander's pack this morning."
David jumped in surprise. "You know about that? Please don't be harsh on him. I know he wasn't truly going to leave."
"I know he won't leave, and I won't punish him either. Your brother has always shied away from responsibility. I've tried to impress upon him the importance of the position he is going to inherit, but to be honest, I'm afraid he and Mareth will, in fact, run away some day. I don't want to force him to do something he doesn't want to do. But, there will need to be a Lord of Lystra. Gabriel and Eleenia can't do it, so it would fall to you, David. Next fall you will go to the Arch Bishop's University, and I want you to be prepared just in case Alexander leaves the Lordship to you."
David was stunned and speechless.
His father continued. "Now this doesn't mean that Alexander IS going to give you the Lordship, but even if he doesn't, I know he wants you to be more than just a mere advisor. Does that answer your question?"
"Yes, father. Thank you."
"Some time before you head off to Avonshire, we shall all sit down and decide what you boys are going to do once God in heaven has taken me home. I have to know that Lystra will be in good hands, and I know that between the two of you, it will. But if Alexander leaves, you have to be ready to take charge. Now, let's hear the next case."
* * * * *
Time for the midday meal, thought Angus McCracken. The dungeons of the Ki Kalendeen castle rarely needed more than the current three guards. The cells were occupied by the few thieves, bandits, vagrants, and brawlers that chose to try their luck in Lystra. Lord Alexander was a kind and just Lord, and he employed a large force of city guards. They kept the peace very well, but when someone dared to break the King's laws, they either ended up down here or they fled Lystra, never to be seen again. Today, there were only seven inmates to feed and supervise. All prisoners were to earn their keep in the dungeon, and McCracken kept them hard at work smelting iron ingots from the ore brought in from the Blackstone Mountains to the south.
A serving girl brought his tray to him. The kitchen always supplied some of the best food to the castle servants. Lord Alexander had always believed in keeping those in his employ happy, as he always had believed in keeping those under his command happy. Angus had served in the Caledonian army and lost his leg to an enemy’s sword. Abandoned by his comrades, he was left to die on a battlefield east of Crystal Falls. On their way back from battle after General Ki Kalendeen’s decommissioning at the order of the newly crowned King Nicolae, the army came across the disillusioned Caledonian soldier. Ki Kalendeen was kind enough to mend his wounds and bring him with them. Upon returning to Lystra, Lord Alexander had hired him on as the warden of his castle's dungeons. Compared to his life in the Caledonian lowlands, it was a relatively luxurious way to spend his retirement years.
A cloth napkin, embroidered with an eagle and a cross, covered the food. He pulled the napkin away from the tray revealing freshly baked layer-rolls, venison, tubers, and boiled carrots. A large pitcher of ale also occupied the tray. The clanging of smith hammers had stopped as the sweaty inmates also took time for their meal. The smell of his meal brought longing looks as the criminals received flatbread, water, and dried meat.
One of the prisoners called over to him. "Hey, old man. Why can't we have some real food like you've got?"
"Shut your vile mouth, you filthy bastard! If you hadn't smashed that bottle over Innkeeper Dirk's head, you wouldn't be in here, would you! Now shut up and eat! You haven't much time." McCracken took a big bite of venison and stood up. He felt a small twinge of pain as he put his weight on the peg that stood where his leg used to be. He drew his sword, using it as a cane, and hobbled over to the loud-mouthed brawler.
"You are lucky I'm in chains, old man," said the young prisoner.
Angus just smiled at him. "If you think only your chains would stop you from slaying me, what do you say I take them off of you and we fight? If you win, you only work five hours a day for the rest of your stay here. If you lose, you shall work fifteen, assuming you survive. I've forgotten more about death than you shall probably ever see."
"You're full of piss and wind, old man. I'll wager you've never used that sword, except perhaps as a poker to stir a cook fire." The prisoners exploded in laughter. "In fact, you probably cut your own leg off while shaving!"
McCracken stroked his graying beard and nodded. "I can see your words have gotten you into as many fights as your running have gotten you out of. I've seen my share of battles, boy. I've been a soldier since your mother was still changing your smallclothes. I've seen boys like you run scared while soiling themselves at the first sign of the enemy. I have you figured for one like that. So, what say you, lad? Care to try for light work or are you a coward?"
The young prisoner stood up. "I'm no coward. It will be a pleasure to fight you. Maybe you can find a hook to match your peg leg after I remove your right hand at the wrist."
"So be it. "
He turned and yelled down the hallway. "Tomas, come here. I need you to watch the others while I teach this lout a lesson!"
There was no answer.
"Tomas! TOMAS!! Quit playing the fool, man. Come out here, I need you!"
A small flicker of yellow light appeared down the hallway, the source being around the corner. McCracken sighed and hobbled towards the hallway as Tomas rounded the corner.
"There you be, man. Come here, I need your help."
Tomas walked past him, a blank look to his face, as if the subordinate guard didn't acknowledge his presence. As he passed, McCracken noticed a gash across his chest. Blood seeped through the split in the ring mail armor.
"Are you well, lad? That looks a nasty cut you got there. Here, let me see that?"
As he reached up to check the younger guard's chest, his hand was quickly pushed away. Tomas continued walking towards the prisoners at a slow pace. Again, there was the flash of yellow light down the dark hallway.
"What in the name of…." McCracken grabbed a torch off the wall and limped towards the hallway, sword drawn. As he approached the corner, the yellow light flashed again and he heard voices.
"…it's not working! You mutilated the body too badly for me to raise him and I don't have time to make him a greater….wait, someone's coming. You, go see what it is."
McCracken hunched down to face whoever was going to round the corner. If they did not work for Lord Ki Kalendeen and had a weapon in hand, they would lose the offending limb. “All right, who the bloody hell do you…..”
He froze in mid-sentence as a horrible sight came around the corner. A walking skeleton, bones gray with age, turned and looked at him with eyeless sockets. McCracken’s throat clenched. He couldn’t breathe as he was seized with the urge to run. Where he ran didn’t matter, as long as he ran and never stopped, but he was paralyzed with sheer terror the likes of which he had never felt. His entire body started to shake and he heard screams coming from the room behind him. A warm trickle ran down his leg and his teeth clenched together, biting through his lower lip. The skeleton swung its weapon and connected with his shoulder. The pain of the iron bar’s blunt impact brought him back in control of his body. He raised his hands to protect his face as the force of the mighty blow carried him into the wall. McCracken struck blindly in the direction of the walking nightmare. His sword was jarred from his hand as it struck something. He turned and hobbled as fast as he could towards the main dungeon, not daring to look back at the nightmare chasing him. A scream escaped his lips and pain shot through his good leg. Glancing down, he saw a detached skeletal arm gripping his ankle. He felt the bones in his leg start to snap and another blow from the iron bar landed on his back. The floor rose to meet his face and the world spun. Glancing up ahead of him, he saw Tomas standing with his sword in hand. McCracken reached down to his belt to grab his keys and threw them to his fellow guard.
“Tomas!” he wailed in a high pitched, fervent scream. “Let the prisoners go and get out of here! Hurry!” McCracken glanced up, and saw all seven of the prisoners lying on the ground in a growing pool of their combined blood.
Tomas stepped towards McCracken and raised his sword.
“NOOOOOO!!!!”
There was a loud crack of metal hitting bone, and old soldier lay still.
Dameus stepped out from the shadows of the hallway and calmly surveyed the room. A pleased smile crept across half of his face as he examined the condition of the body in front of him, sword sticking through its back. “Good, very little damage to the skeletal structure. If the others are in as good shape as this one…”
Dameus was interrupted by a tap on his shoulder. He turned around and saw one of the skeletons holding its own severed arm. “What do you want?”
“FIX!” the skeleton said in a gruff, raspy voice.
“Why? You’ve still got one good arm. I’ve work to do. Go stand guard over by the hallway.”
The skeleton poked him again and shook its head. “FIX!!!” it insisted.
“Fine. In a moment.”
“FIX NOW!!!!”
Dameus gave a flustered sigh. “Oh all right! You big baby. Hold still!” He placed the arm back in the socket and muttered a few incantations. A small flash of yellow light, and the arm was back in place. "Good as new. Now go and guard the hallway. The last thing we need now are guards or servants alerting the rest of the castle.
The skeletal warrior nodded and walked off towards the dungeon entrance. Dameus cracked his knuckles and pulled the sword from McCracken's ribs. "No more interruptions. We haven't much time."
* * * * * *
The young noble sat on the opposite side of the room from the pregnant woman and her irate father. On the edge of his seat, he was screaming at Lord Ki Kalendeen. "I am the only son of Lord Edington of New Portsmouth! You have no jurisdiction in this case! I demand that you release me immediately!"
Alexander smiled. "You're threats carry no weight here, child."
The noble stood up, an indignant look on his face. "How dare you refer to me in that manner, Ki Kalendeen! My father shall have your head for this! I am no child!"
"But you are acting like a child, a child who is throwing a temper tantrum. Richard Eddington, my ruling stands. You admitted this woman carries your child, and you shall marry her before she gives birth." He began to roll up the scroll in his hands, indicating that the court session was closed.
Richard sat back down slowly, stunned. The fight seemed to be taken out of his voice. "You don't know the dishonor this will cause my family. Laurel isn't of noble birth. My father will disown me. Please, Lord Ki Kalendeen! It’s not that I don’t find her attractive, and I will support the child,
but I cannot marry her!" He put his head in his hands and began to cry. “What will my father say?”
Lord Ki Kalendeen reached into his long red and gold robe, pulling out a scrolled parchment. "Richard, I have here a letter from your father. Last month, when Master Lubick came to me with these charges, I sent a messenger to New Portsmouth to discuss the matter with Lord Edington."
Richard stood up again. "You WHAT?!?"
"Your father already knows. Would you like to hear his response? Well, even if you don't, you are still going to hear it. It reads 'Honorable Lord Ki Kalendeen, in regards to the situation of my son and the tailor's daughter. Two years ago when Richard left Porstmouth, my heart was heavy. My beloved son fled my castle in anger. He was angry with me and he had nothing but hate in his soul. If you happen to come across him, please convey this message to him. The words I hastily spoke were wrong, and I did not mean them. They should never have been spoken, and if I could change the past I would. I cannot, however, and all I can ask is that he forgives me. He is my only son. As you are probably aware, his mother died during his birth. Please also tell him the woman who carries my grandchild is welcome in my home. It would be an honor to call her daughter. Please, Lord Alexander, send my son home if you find him. Thank you. Signed Lord Jonathan Edington, Lord of New Portsmouth.' Now, Richard, you have two choices. You can marry Laurel, or you can support the child by working the smelting pits in my dungeon. The choice is yours!"
Richard stood up and glared angrily at Lord Ki Kalendeen. David noticed that he was trying to suppress an emotional outburst. He radiated both hate and rage as he felt his chances of ascending to the throne via royal marriage slip through his fingers. He walked across the room to Laurel and knelt at her feet. "My darling Laurel, I ask that you forgive me for my arrogance. I also ask that you will be my wife and the future Lady Edington of New Portsmouth." Although he spoke the words, they were without feeling.