Elon

King Azlyn and his hunting party rode into the Mission of Karmozijn Kerk late in the evening. As the seat of the Chief Priest and the center of the Crimson Tome, it was a far grander city than Dovwynn, or indeed just about any capitol in the North. Azlyn had visited the mission city often. Karmozijn Kerk usually received both news and goods more efficiently than Dovwynn and was only a half a day’s brisk ride east of Christallo Manner.

Bells were ringing evening service and the university was bustling, as students from all across the North hurried between buildings, scrolls and books swung over their shoulders. Swallows and sea hawks chaise each other through the skies and Azlyn’s eyes gleam with envious excitement when he spied some griffon riders swooping above the ocean waves. He often dreamed of riding such magnificent beasts himself one day.

Drawing little attention, Azlyn rode past the grand monument and gardens and presented himself to one of the steward priests at the palace of the Chief Kerkir, High Priest Staas.

“We welcome you King Azlyn, but the Chief Kerkir is very busy at the moment. Perhaps…”

“Don’t worry yourself or the Kerkir,” Azlyn said, putting the priest at easy with a warm smile. “I do not need to see him in person and I’m here on no matter of importance. Simply send the Kerkir my warmest regards and greetings and tell him I wish Aed’s blessing upon him and the New Year. By the way…”

Azlyn took some bags of candied almonds and a skin of fine red wine from a saddlebag over his shoulder. “Here’s a new year’s gift for you and the Chief Kerkir. I also wish to present him with the finest of my most recant kills of game. My men and I have just returned from a hunting trip and Aed was smiling on me. I bagged a twelve-pronged stag. Will you see that it makes its way to his Holiness’s kitchens?”

“Of course King Azlyn,” the priest said warmly. Azlyn had given away his candied almonds before and the priest remembered them fondly, “Aed will surely bless you for your generosity, Sire.”

“He already has, Brother,” Azlyn said, smiling brightly and thinking of Baby Riley.

“How long do you intend to stay?” the priest asked.

“Only one night. My wife tells me there’s some damned politics to do at home. Don’t worry about preparing rooms for us here. My men and I will be quite content to stay at one of the inns by the port.” He gave the priest a cordial bow, before making his way back to their waiting horses.

Azlyn spent a marry night toasting the New Year with his men and drinking spiced wine at one of the inns overlooking the ocean. Music played jovially and Azlyn thought of his brand new son and the brand new year and the bright Spring ahead of them. He was so happy, he wanted to kiss the closets girl he could find and them make ardent love to her. Unfortunately, as this was the seat of the Church it wouldn’t have been prudent. So instead he barrowed a fiddle from one of the musicians and stuck up a boisterous melody. Stamping his feet, the King of Elon soon had the whole establishment dancing and singing. They praised Aed, praised good wine, good friends and welcomed a new spring, with fiery coastal joy.

The next mourning, Azlyn made his way to the grand temple. It was crowded with people praying for blessings on the new season but dressed in simple riding leathers and a cloak, he maneuver his way unrecognized into the hallowed halls. Dropping the customary coppers in the temples box, Alzyn bought a prayer candle and carried it to one of the more quiet alcoves of the temple. Here an icon was set up and blessings for the birth of a child were written in the colored glass above the carved wooden altars.

Lighting his candle, Azlyn knelt and first recited the many palms and prayers he’d learned as a child, before praying in more personal earnestness. He looked strange kneeling in a smoky temple, with the sweet smells of incense around him and the light coming through the colored glass casting shades of green and red over his skin. He was a big man, a loud man, a man of the outdoors, but here he seemed humble and naïve. He prayed for his new son and then for his first bastard daughter and finally for Princess Eloise, his only legitimate child. He took his time and then left the candle burning in its glass jar before the icon, according to custom.

He was leaving by one of the side doors to avoid the crowd, when he saw a young woman sitting on the steps in the late morning sunshine. She had on the acolyte robes of a student from the Tovenaar-Akur college. A book was in her lap and a bottle of ink at her side. She was very pretty, with copper hair gleaming in the light and a large bosom that even her loose robes could not hide. She looked to be maybe sixteen or seventeen.

Pausing on the steps above her, Azlyn looked down at the book she was reading. It was in a language he didn’t know, but he didn’t really care about the book. Her bosom looked very fine indeed from this angle. “Good mourning,” he greeted, “Aed’s blessing upon your New Year, Sister.”

She looked up and Azlyn gave her his most winning smile. “How do you do? I’m-”

“I know who you are, Your Majesty. You are King Azlyn Christallo of Elon.”

“Now this is hardly fair,” Azlyn said laughingly, “You apparently know all about me, but I don’t even know your name.”

The girl scoffed, trying to ignore his charisma and inviting smile. “I’m not important,” she said closing her book and beginning to get to her feet.

“I can’t believe that,” Alzyn said, extending a hand to help her up, “Under the eyes of Aed, aren’t we are all equal brothers and sisters?”

She let him help her up, but then stepped back, holding the large book close to her chest. “Good King, have you come here to teach acolytes the articles of to the faith?” she asked her tone mocking, “My classmate shall be overjoyed. All our other teachers are dusty, wise old men, who have spent years and years studying the faith.”

Azlyn chuckled and spread his hands in a motion of surrender. “Fine don’t tell me you name, Sister, but take this,” he took out an orange and handed it to her, “Best of a new spring to you.”

She hesitated and he grinned slightly, loving the way a lock of hair fell over one cheek. He was about to turn to go, when she spoke up again. “I don’t think I will,” she said and tossed the orange back at him.

Catching it, Azlyn frowned slightly. There was hostility in her tone and he cocked his head in silent inquiry.

“You’re married aren’t you,” she said, “And I am a priestess unto Aed. The first two tenants of the faith are dignity and duty, Sire. In case you need a reminder.”

“I think you misunderstood my intentions, Sister,” Azlyn said, “I only mean to wish you a happy new year and offer a little gift in simple good will and the spirit of the season.”

“And did I misunderstand the look in your eyes a moment ago, Your Majesty, or the way you leaned over my chest in pretext of looking at the book in my lap?”

He was silent a moment. Then said, “Have you always been so suspicious of men, Sister?”

“I grew up around the wrong kind.”

“My sympathies for your childhood then, Sister.” Carefully he stepped forward, placed the orange down on the steps between them and then stepped back, keeping his hands up, like a man afraid of startling a jumpy enemy. “Please take the gift. Absolutely no strings attached, I promise.” He smiled again. “I’ll admit to being too free with my eyes, but I have only simple and good intentions.”

She looked at him a moment and then relaxed and gave a slightly sheepish grin of apology.

“Farewell, Sister,” Azlyn said, dropping his hands and offering her a polite bow, “I wish you all the luck in the world.” So saying, Azlyn departed the temple and met his men by the western gate.

They rode out of Karmozijn Kerk and south with sunshine and a brisk wind at their backs and the smell of and early spring all around them. Despite the nice weather, Azlyn’s spirits had dampened slightly. The girl on the steps had reminded him of his wife and had succeeded in making him feel somewhat guilty.

Queen Chello was sitting at her desk, her head in her hand. She shouldn’t have lost her temper like she had. It was undignified and a shameful display of emotions. However, seeing Eloise running under that terrible horse and then Azlyn crash like he did… it’d been too much. She’s already been trouble all mourning pondering the tidings of gathering Wasteland Orcs and the scene had stirred up old nightmares.

Back at home, the Southern Tribes had lived and breathed horses. Even the landed and more civilized nobles of Arkhaer often treasure their horses more than they treasured their wives and children. Chello had always found the beasts frightening, but her twin sister, Cassidy, had taken to horses like snow to the mountain crowns. Cassidy had been a fearless and bright as star, constantly riding and running wild. She was beloved by all the knights and there hadn’t been a horse in their father’s stables that she couldn’t ride. One day Chello had made the mistake of letting her sister talk her into going out riding with her.


“No, not that way. Keep the stirrups tight, pressed against the balls of your feet, like this.” Cassidy took hold of her ankle and adjusted the placement of her foot. “Wind & sun, Chel! You’re ankles are skinny as twigs!” Cassidy laughed at her. “How can you even stand? There. Keep you feet like that. And don’t lean over his neck. Sit up straight. You need to let your weight sink down into your legs and hold on with them, not your arms.”

“How am I supposed to hold on with my legs? He’s so big and my legs are too short. Cass, I’m scared.”

“Your need to stop being so chicken, Chel. You’re legs will be able to hold. You just need to build up the strength.”

“Well, I don’t have the strength now and I don’t think I want to do this.”

“You can’t back out now,” Cassidy said, as she walked over to her horse and somehow managed to mount the huge animal without a boost, even through she was only ten and just a little taller than Chello. “Follow close to me. It will be fine!”

They rode out and Chello hated it immediately. Her horse was a dapple-gray gelding, who seemed intend on doing whatever he damn pleased, no mater how much Chello pulled on the rains or shouted at him. Whenever they went faster than a walk, Chello was bounced and jostled in the saddle and completely forgot all the tips her sister had given her. She simply clung to the mane and neck for dear life. She was sore after thirty minutes and her nerves were stretched to the breaking point by fear and frustration.

Cassidy, however was having a blast and soon began galloping about Chello in circles, too impatient to content herself to her sister’s slow pace. She had curly blonde hair and it glinted like gold in the sunshine, flowing behind her as she rode. The cold winds soon turned her sister’s cheeks a cherry red and her eyes sparked a deep blue. Cassidy was the pretty twin, with all the fullness, color and strength Chello lacked. Laughing with the pure happiness of being alive and outside, Cassidy trotted up beside Chello, who was tugging and shouted, trying to keep her dapple from eating green field grass around his bit.

“He doesn’t respect you, Chel. You need to show him whose boss!”

“How?’ cried Chello, nearly in tears now.

“Stop crying for one thing and sit up straight. Put iron in you voice. Hyah!” Giving her own horse a firm kick, Cassidy demonstrated, galloping in another wide circuit around the field. She had perfect control, riding like an angel on the wind. She was showing off proper now and jumped a low stonewall. It was magic. Just like King Azlyn many years later, Cassidy seemed to be completely one with her mount, a wild, happy dream on horseback. A dream made of 1,500 pounds of rippling muscle and hard hooves.

Suddenly a loud bang sounded out over the field, echoing off the mountain cliff and ringing in the clear blue sky. Guns were uncommon in the southern tribal lands and the sound had been unexpected and unnervingly close by. Both horses started in fear and tried to bolt.

Chello was thrown immediately and landed hard, barely aware of what had happened, as her gelding galloped away.

Cassidy kept her seat, but lost control. Her mare neighed and bolted after the gelding and straight at Chello.

Chello remembered seeing the stamping hooves thundering towards her and a intimate realization of just how HUGE the horse was. She felt smaller than a mouse before it and was hardly aware of her sister’s shouts. All she could do was scream and curl into as small a ball as she possibility could.

Thu-thum! Thu-thum! Thu Thump!

At the last minute the giant beast leap and sailed over Chello’s ducked head. She saw its hooves pass as couple inches above her eyes and then with a thud and a swish of it’s tail it landed and was off, as fast at it’d come.

She’d refused to ride a horse home and shook the whole way back, falling sick a day later.

Her fever dreams had been filled with horses gnashing sharp teeth, beating their hooves at her and snorting fire as the bore down upon her.





Then she’d seen that wild beast of a horse trampling toward her daughter and then carrying her husband down with a horrible neighing scream. It’d been too much. Far too much on top of everything else she had to worry about.

One of the servants had taken Eloise away shortly after she come in and another had brought her a cup of strong wine. Taking up the goblet, Chello finished it off and exhaled her last trembling breath, composing herself again at last. She’d crossed the world to marry Azlyn Christallo and he’d turned out to be just like her sister. Did the gods really hate her that much?

Well what if they did? She would handle everything they threw at her, including Wasteland Orcs, if she had to.

Smoothing the wrinkles of her dress, Chello drew the missive on the Weastlanders and read it again. There was very little information and she knew little and less about these barbarians, not having grown up here. She didn’t want to let ignorance cause her to underestimate a threat. Pulling out a map, she looked at the wide stretch marked as the “Wastelands”. If an attack did come it would probably be from the northwest, maybe against Dorn from the forests there. They might also come down the river, though the Firetooth Clan maintained fairly good controlled the northern half of the river. It would be prudent to contact the chief Garlog and the Clan Elders. Being orcs themselves the Firetooth probably had good insight on what to expect and what actions of any the Wasteland tribes would take against them.

She’d determined to write to the Firetooth at once, when she heard commotion from several of the servants out in the hall. The words “war” and “armies” were heard and Chello quickly got up and when out the door.

“What’s going on?” she demanded, “Has something happened?”

“The Vaekirate has declared war!” one of the maids exclaimed with excitement, “A holy war against the Dwarves of Beg Gurihm.”

“The king has already given orders to raise 10,000 men in levies. He’s answering the call to arms himself.”

“He’s what?!” demanded Chello, not sure she believed her ears.

“The king is riding to war, as soon as the levies can be gathered and armed!”

“War in Beg Gurihm? 10,000 men? Is the king crazy?”

The servants didn’t look like they knew how to answer that.

“Where is he?”

This one they could handle and did so promptly. “He and the guard officers are having lunch with the messenger.”

“Excuse me.” Brushing past the servants, Chello strode hastily down toward the long hall.

Azlyn was seated at the large wooden table with a half dozen of hir knights and a young, black-haired messenger from Karmozijn Kerk. He had a bandage wrapped around his head and she could tell that a large lump was already forming underneath, but she wasn’t in the mood to feel sympathy for whatever pain it might be causing.

Upon seeing her, the king and his knights all rose from their chairs. Azlyn had an anxious hesitant look on his face, clearly still unnerved by the way she’d acted in the yard after the riding accident.

“My Lady Chello,” he greeted, “Please… join us. I suppose you heard the news?”

Though fuming inside, Chello’s manners were too well trained and embedded within her. Lowing her eyes she gave him a polite curtsy and spoke demurely. “My Lord. Pardon my interruption, but if you could trouble yourself, I wish to speak with you privately on an urgent issue concerning this news.”

The king and his knights exchanged looks. Soft as the queen had spoken they all had the instinctive feeling that Azlyn was in some kind of deep trouble with his wife. Unfortunately, for Azlyn, he was no coward, not even in the face of angry wives.

“Of course,” he said after only a moment’s hesitation, “Excuse me Sirs.” Nodding to his knights he followed Chello out of the hall and she led him serenely to they bedroom, where she shut the door softly behind them. Only then did she round on him.

“You can’t seriously be planning on riding off to Beg Gurihm with 10,000 of our men?”

He frowned. He always hated it when she challenged him. Chello had a way of speaking that made it sound as though she thought him very dumb, even though she seldom did or said anything directly disrespectful. Arguing with her was like trying to box with an ocean. She always gave way, leaving nothing to hit, but there was the hopeless sense that she would ultimately overwhelm and drown him no matter what he said or did.

“Of course I plan to. The Church has summoned the faithful and I must answer. It’s a divine duty, Chello.”

Her thin mouth twisted slightly, “And what about protecting you people, you kingdom? Isn’t that duty paramount for a king? Did you not read the missive on the massing tribes of wasteland orcs? Do you see a strong citadel here to protect the women and children you leave behind? Are our barns and coffers so full we can afford to dismiss the peasants from their duties of land and craft? My Lord King, this is no time to entertain a boy’s dream of glory and reward.”

Azlyn’s frown turned to an angry scowl, “Who are you to speak to me so?” he demanded, “The Wastelands Orcs are a mere rabble and the threat they pose is uncertain and distant. Have you no faith in Aed? If we serve him in the war, surely he will protect us.”

“That’s not how the world works!” Chello could hardly believe how naive and foolish her husband was.

“It’s not your place to tell me how the world does or does not work! Nor is it your place to decide what wars I chose to fight. News of the Holy War is spreading quickly and half the men in Elon will be jumping at the chance to fight for God and glory. They’d march away, even if I didn’t call them. You don’t know this county. You don’t know anything about the wastelands or the orcish tribes that haunt them. Be still, woman. Have faith in Aed’s protection and obey your husband!”

Chello bit back her tongue and submissively lowered her eyes. She’d come at this much too directly. She should have known Azlyn would never see since on a matter like this. “As you wish, My Lord. Forgive my impudence. I am merely concerned at the timing of this Holy War. Surly the Kerkir does not need so large a number as 10,000 men from Elon. There are many great and powerful kingdoms in the North, several of which have professional armies on hand and many more that are not bordered by the waistlands and under the threat they curantly pose.”

“I’ll not discuss this further,” Azlyn said, “I’ll not shame our kingdom before the Church, or disappoint the religious fervor of our people, by hesitating or sending an army of little consequence.”

Chello didn’t argue anymore and kept her eyes lowered. It unsettled him slightly, making him feel like he’d been too harsh. Now that she was giving way, her points were easier to consider and, as useal, his wife was right, at least about a few things.

Nonetheless, he wasn’t going to compromise. Signing, Azlyn did soften his voice. “Since Beg Gurihm is landlocked in the mountains, there will be no place for our navy, or ships. Admiral Guard and his captains and the rest of the marines will be staying. He’s a good man, clever. Knows how to deal with raiders and can handle himself on land nearly as well as he can on the deck of a ship. If anything does happen, you can rely on him, Chello. Besides, I doubt the High Kerkir will empty Karmozijn Kerk just to deal with some warlord dwarves. If all else fails, take refuge in the city there.”

“Your wisdom is sound, my lord,” Chello replied, but she was using the flat, polite tone that made it impossible to tell her true intent or feelings. She was a closed book now and like ice before his eyes.

Azlyn gritted his teeth with annoyance, but there was nothing he could do, but nod and walk away, returning to his luncheon with the knights.

Chello scowled after him then collapsed on the bed. She wanted nothing more than to go to sleep with a wet rag over her eyes, but there was too much work to be done.

Azlyn would be doing nothing against the threat looming in the northwest. With him and so man of their men away, it was even more important that she was informed and prepared. Calling in a servant, she asked for a new goblet of wine and then got up and took out pens and paper.

Chilly winds carried the smell of rain over the brown fields and Azlyn could see the deep azure of the storm clouds gathering over the ocean. A flock of ravens flew up with a nervous cawing and a sea hawk answered with a high Kwi-ki, as it soared overhead. It was good to be home, to see the goats and orchards again and smell the sea and southern winds once more.

The campaign had be something of a disappointment to Azlyn. It’d been a long slow march with many men, over rough poorly maintained roads and when they’re finally arrived in Beg Gurihm the war was over an done with. He’d had no opportunity to win glory for his name and country, nor had he been able to gain any of the legendary gold or jewels from the Dwarven mines. They’d gotten there, done some sight seeing and turned right back for home, never taking their weapons from their sheathes.

But at least some good had come from the endeavor. During the months along the road, Azlyn had gotten to know the general of the Vaekirate’s Tovenaar-Akur, Haakon Titanhand quite well. The two had spent long evenings discussing the history and future of the northern kingdoms, or sharing songs and stories.

Compared to Azlyn, Haakon was a rather serious man, a giant with age and responsibility and a good deal of personal power. The Tovenarr-Akur were no joke and they could only learn their mysterious craft under the guidance and command of the Vaekirate. Haakon taught and led all the Tovenaar- Akur, in the north.

All the same, despite his own serious outlook, Haakon seemed to appreciate the young king of Elon’s carefree and jovial spirit. During the day marches, Azlyn often road his horse up along side the giant and they’d pass the time in conversations, which ranged from high and lofty topics concerning religion and the divine rights of the Empire to such mundane topics as the splendid color of the sky and the habits of squirrels. They’d forged a friendship which Azlyn knew would last the test of time and he looked forward to the visits Haakon would pay to Dovwynn throughout the years.

Azlyn had once heard a ballad that had stated friendship to be far more valuable than all the gold and glory in the world. He supposed the songwriter was probably right and for now Azlyn was willing to give thanks to Aed for what he had gained and for what he hadn’t lost. The army of Elon may not be returning with glory or riches, but every man who’d set out would be returning to home and family and halleluiah to that.

It was for the sake of family that Azlyn had rode ahead of his army, or maybe friends would be a more accurate term. He wasn’t sure how he should categorize his mistress and her children, but Adessa Connell, Annali and Riley felt more like family to him than the royal court and his wife in Dovwynn. He wasn’t so sure about Adessa’s older daughter, Tera, but he was willing to tolerate her for the sake of his lover and his son. It seemed like forever since he’d seen them.

The sun was setting by the time he dismounted Rasselas by the farmhouse well. The family had made some extensions, since he’d last been here. There was a fresh coat of paint on the house, the barn in the back was new and larger than before and he could see the beginning construction for a bunkhouse. Azlyn was glad to see that the family was doing so well.

Hitching his horse to the porch rail, he was on his way up the steps, when the door burst open and Annali jumped out and nearly into his arms. “Your back!” she hugged him around the waist and the King laughed.

“Good god! Look how much you’ve grown!”

“I’m nine years old now! You missed my birthday.”

“Well I brought you a present from Beg Gurihm to make up for it,” Azlyn said and drew a bead necklace from his pocket. It was made of polished pick stones, carved into perfect spheres that gleamed in the rosy light of the sunset.

Annali gasped and took the necklace with awe, “It’s beautiful!”

“I’m afraid I don’t have an orange for you this time. I do have some candied almonds though.” He handed her a bag of nuts and stepped up to the door. “Is your mother hom-”

The door was pulled wide and Adessa Connell’s lips were suddenly pressed to his, as she wrapped her armed over his shoulders and eagerly pulled him down.

Their kiss was long and deep and Azlyn leaned into it, wrapping her arms around her waist and closing his eyes. By the time they broke apart they both had to breath deeply to regain their breath.

“That’s gross,” Annali said, “Can I visit with Rasselas?”

“Go ahead,” Azlyn panted, as Adessa took hold of his cloak and pulled him into the house.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Adessa said, closing the door behind them.

“Me too,” Azlyn said, “I’ve missed you and Riley.” He looked around for some sigh of his son and Adessa smiled, before taking him by the hand and leading him into a back bedroom. It was quite spacious and besides the large four-poster bed, there was a baby crib against the wall and a weaving loom in the corner.

Tera was sitting at the loom and she glared at them, without a word.

Riley was awake in his crib and gave happy little squeal as his mother lifted him up. He was big for his age, with cubby arms and legs and thick black hair. “He’s got your eyes,” Adessa said handing him to Azlyn, “And your loud mouth. He screams to wake the dead when he gets excited.”

Riley obligingly gave a gleeful shout and snatched at his father’s long hair and beard pulling and happily slapping at Azlyn’s face, with babyish giggles. “I think he has you sense of humor,” Azlyn chuckled, leaning his head away from the abuse and letting out a poof of breath to blow his bangs back out of his eyes. Riley laughed more and Adessa punched Alzyn playfully on the shoulder. “I got no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Everything is going alright?” the king asked, shifting the baby to his hip and giving Riley a finger to play with. The little boy gabbed it and pushed into his mouth.

“Everything going good. He’s healthy as can be, teething though.”

“I can feel that,” Azlyn said, “Like I said, your sense of fun.”

Adessa scoffed and crossed her arms. “We’ve hired some farm hands to help out and have expanded our produce.”

“I noticed the bigger barn and is that a bunkhouse you’re starting?”

Adessa nodded. “Tera thinks it will be better to have the farmhands living here over the harvest seasons. Save them an hour’s walk back and forth to their houses.”

“She’s a clever girl,” Azlyn said and glanced over at the teenager, who was still glaring and only scoffed when he met her eyes.

Clearing his throat, Azlyn pulled his finger out of Riley’s mouth and took a beautifully engraved silver box from his pocket. “I brought you something. It was made by the Dwarven craftsmen. They let me pick the song. It’s a tune I came up with on the road there.”

Adessa undid the tiny latch and opened the lid. A song began to play, small gears turning and little chimes playing a pleasant upbeat melody.

“It’s beautiful,” Adessa breathed, “I never would have though such a thing possible. How does it work?”

“You will need a key to wined it up,” Azlyn explained, “I’ll give it to you for a kiss.”

She smiled and kissed him and he handed her a little silver key.

Over in the corner the loom thumped with an especially annoyed clack.

“I have a necklace for Tera too,” Azlyn said drawing a string of blue beads from his pocket.

“Tera come over and say thank you to the king,” Adessa said, turning to her older daughter.

Tera looked at them over her loom. “How much is it worth?”

“Hrm?” Azlyn asked

Tera rolled her eyes. “The necklace. When I sell it, I’ll need to know how much its worth.”

“Stop being so rude,” Adessa said her eyes burning with embarrassment. “You’re disgracing us.”

“I’m disgracing us?” Tera retorted angrily. “My father built this house, not the king.”

Adessa glared and then turned away from her daughter and took Riley back into her arms.

“Come take your brother and go outside. Make sure Annali isn’t up to more mischief.”

Sighing, Tera got up from her loom and came over to take the baby. She left without looking at Azlyn, or accepting the beads.

He glared after her a moment then looked back at Adessa. “She seems a little out of control.” He commented.

Adessa sighed, “She took her father’s death very hard and hasn’t been the same since.”

“That was nearly five years ago.”

“She’s too smart for her own good.”

Azlyn scoffed. “Reminds me of my wife.”

Adessa reached up and clung to his neck. “I don’t’ want to talk about Tera, or your wife. How long can you stay?” She began pulling his slowly back towards the bed.

He smiled and dropped the beads he’d brought for Tera on a table by the crib. “The rest of the men won’t be passing by here until noon tomorrow.”

“Well then, You Highness, allow me to welcome you home from war.” Swinging him around by the neck she shoved him down on the bed.

He laughed and took her in his arms, as she jumped on the bed as well. They began undoing each other’s clothes with eager anticipation.

Winter, 818 year of the prophet  

Queen Chello stood in the magisterial office by one of the large manor windows. It looked out into the Christallo courtyard and the queen was watching the king as he spoke enthusiastically with the new guard commander who’d followed him home from Karmozijin Kerk. Azlyn was smiling and as animated in his manners as usual. He seemed completely oblivious to the obvious admiration the other man had for him. For that matter, Azlyn seemed unaware of a lot of the changes that were happening around him, changes that Chello was immensely attuned to.

Her husband returning with such a following had been unexpected. Even without lifting a weapon in the war, he’d somehow had come home a hero and the tides of Elon, which she had been slowly but carefully directing, were suddenly responding to a raucous counter surge. Loud, foolish and sudden, this wave of nostalgic hero worship, with its cries for hope, glory and song had little foundation to it, as far as Chello was concerned. These men clung to Azlyn, but the young king of Elon had yet to prove himself in war, diplomacy or morality. Charismatic and strong as he was, she doubted Azlyn would find the wisdom and foresight to live up to the hopes men were putting in him.

Letting out a breath, Chello ran her hand over the pronounced bulge of her belly. It was a nervous habit now. The pregnancy had been warring hard on her and the anxiety over the rapidly approaching birthing even more so. She didn’t want to die in childbirth. There was so much still to be done, so many plans to put into action, a future to build.

Someone came up beside her and looked out at the courtyard as well. “A fool’s dream is a wise man’s nightmare,” the person said in Classical Serveakom, “Or a wise woman as the case may be.”

Chello turned, lifting an amused eyebrow, “A quote from Gerosh? You really are trying to impress aren’t you, Evo?”

The young man turned red and Chello laughed slightly. “Forgive me for teasing. It was well said and you are learning very well. In times of change, learner’s will inherit the earth,”

“While the learned find themselves beautifully equipped to live in a world that no longer exists,” Evo said, finishing the quote.

Chello smiled again. “Soon enough you’ll be able to exchange quips with the grand masters at Arkhaer.” She closed the curtain on the scene of Azlyn and his men.

“This letter just arrived for you,” Evo said, switching back to Elonese and handing her a plain piece of parchment folded and sealed. There was nothing written on the outside, but Chello recognized the smell of pipe tobacco on it.

“Thank you,” she said, “Keep up the good work.”

Placing a hand over her belly, Chello left the office and went to her chambers to read Hagear’s letter.


She read the letter over several times and considered carefully the best way to address the issue.
It sounded like the giant had the blackmail problem handled for now, but it was time she confronted Azlyn about his affair. It needed to end. Now more than ever Azlyn need to live in accordance to the principles and ideals expected of him. Too many people had their eyes fixed upon him.

***

She was sitting in the carved armchair in their chambers when he came in. As usual it was late, she was just glad he’d come at all. Often as not, Azlyn stayed out all night, either not sleeping, or finding a bed somewhere else.

Tonight he was in a good humor and smiled brightly when he saw her. “You waited up for me? You shouldn’t have. I know you need rest; still I’m glad to see you. We’ve hardly talked since I got home.”

He actually came over and kissed her forehead, before drawing up another chair to the fire. “Joao and his men are settling in well. He says they expect their families to come from Karmozijin Kerk to join them here by next spring.”

“That’s nice.”

“It’s splendid. Too much of this old city has sat in empty ruins. Now the sounds of hammers and the laughter of men echo on every street in Percepolis. It’s like new life is being breathed into a dusty corpse!”

Chello smiled. His smile was as contagious as it was natural, but she had heavy thoughts on her mind and her smile was brief.

“By the way, well done petitioning to the vizier to have the tournament here. It would be glorious to hosted in Dovwynn and the idea for a monument is splendid. I think I’ll help draw up the designs myself. I really can hardly wait until next harvest!”

He started to reach for his fiddle but Chello leaned forward. “I need to speak with you about something.”

He finally noticed the solemn air about her and he frowned with concern. “Oh? There’s nothing wrong with the baby is there?”

“No, nothing like that. It’s about Adessa Connell.”

Azlyn turned slightly pale and opened his mouth in surprise, “Uh… She’s… How did you?”

“I’ve known since the Festival of Oleo and Hagear confirmed it when he started working.”

“That damn spy! I still can’t believe we’re paying him to sneak around in business that isn’t his!”

“You should thank him. Adessa’s daughter wrote a letter to the Veakirate about the affair. Hagear stopped her and worked out a deal.”

“Tera? I told her I wasn’t going to-”

“I know. It was rather foolish to just dismiss her and not do anything about the problem, but Hagear is sending her away to study.”

“She’s leaving Elon?”

Chello nodded. “And she promised not to tell what she knows.”

Azlyn didn’t say anything. He was relieved to hear it, not only because it meant he wouldn’t need to worry about her telling the church, but also because his visits to the farm would be much more pleasant without Tera there constantly glaring at him and making him feel guilty.

“Anyhow,” Chello said after a few moments. She leaned back in her chair and folded her hands on her stomach, “Now that the threat is dealt with, I think it’s time we talked about this. About you and Adessa and the boy you had with her.”

Azlyn looked at her warily. “My son’s name is Riley.”

Chello tried not let the anger show on her face. “Your son, your rightful son is in my womb. After all the trouble he’s been giving me, I won’t have his position threatened by a bastard.”

Azlyn glared, “Riley isn’t a threat to anyone and I better not hear about any schemes or … spy shit that threatens him, or Adessa.”

“Aed’s strength! I have no thoughts of hurting the boy or his mother,” Chello said, “I simply want a grantee that you won’t recognize him, or ever think of bringing him here.”

Azlyn frowned and looked away. He plucked absently at the strings of his fiddle. “I had no intention of doing so. I just want to make sure he’s taken care of and that Adessa has what she needs for her farm.”

Chello nodded. “I am fine with that. Hagear and I have already made improved arangements for the money you’ve been sending every season. Also, he’s going to find a reliable man to work for Adessa as a manager for the farm.

Azlyn let out a long breath. “Well it sounds like it’s all worked out then,” he hesitated and glanced at her, “Are you… You’re not upset about me and Adessa?”

“Of course I am, any wife would be,” Chello smoothed her dress over her belly, “Azlyn, I know that despite the child we’ve had and the one we are about to have, our relationship has been cold and hollow. I know you want more than I give you, but there are sacrifices we have to make for the sake of duty and our country. I believe this is a sacrifice you will have to make, that we both have to make, for the sake of Elon.”

Azlyn bristled. “I fail to see how Elon would benefit from my misery. I love Adessa!”

“Azlyn all those men who followed you home, they look to you as their leader and roll model, they need you to be perfect, too be the ideal Aedakom King, noble and moral in all things. Besides, one of Tera’s stipulations for leaving and keeping quite was for you to end the affair.”

Azlyn scoffed, “That’s ridiculous! I’m giving into that girl’s threats and the men know I’m just a man. It’s impossible to be perfect! They can’t expect that of me. And, besides, abandoning my love is hardly noble.”

“Breaking a holy vow made under oath to Aed - there is nothing noble in that.”

“You don’t understand! You can’t possibility understand anything like this. You don’t even know what love is!”

Chello looked down and was quite a moment. The words stung, all the more so, because deep down she was afraid they were true. “Husband,” she finally said, “This isn’t about me. It isn’t about you or Adessa either. This is about what’s best for the kingdom. It’s been written; “The glory of a king comes not from mighty deeds, or riches, but in his willingness to give up himself for the sake of his kingdom.”

Azlyn didn’t speak for a long time. His pride wanted to bristle up against his wife and refuse to listen, but the months listening to the serious wisdom and advise from Haakon Titanhand had thought him to pause and consider words, before completely dismissing them. He thought about the words she’d said and he considered Jaoa Baramias and all the others. It thought about what it would mean to them is the church denounced him as an unrepentant adulterer. It hurt more than anything he’d ever experienced, but he could feel the truth behind his wife’s words. His affair was ignoble and his people ... They needed him to be a better king than that. Still, he refused to accept the idea of leaving Adessa. The thought was like a noose around his neck, choking the life out of him.

“I’ll think about it,” he said darkly and then got up abruptly. Leaving his fiddle in the chair, he left the bedroom. He couldn’t stand the sight of Chello right now.

***

Azlyn left the mannor and walked out into the darkness of the courtyard. It was mostly quite and abandoned now. The sound of the waves crashing against the cliffs seemed usually loud in the stillness and the light of the full moon gleamed on the white limestone like it was snow.

He wondered aimlessly around the courtyard for a few minutes, before going through the gates and walking down toward the city. He shot a glare at Hagear Coldwind’s house as he passed it. The porch was empty and the huge rocking chair creaked in a passing breeze.

Eventually, he found himself in the city square, looking up at the tangled branches of Oleo’s Tree. It was inevitable that he’d find himself here. It was cold, the branched bare and Azlyn let out a heavy breath, which fogged before his face. It was the tree of duty. It was the tree of his kingdom, his people and his religion. In the past, his forefathers died to protecting it and every spring his people tied their hopes and dreams to it’s branches. It represented everything he should be committed to as the king of Elon.

“How can you ask for this?” he said aloud, pleading. “I can’t live without love! I can’t!” Stumbling forward he fell at the base of the tree, as if he were begging another for mercy, clinging to the trunk. “Please, I need her I need all of them. I need love like I need air to breath. I will suffocate if I turn away and only have… only have the queen.”

He didn’t want to say Chello’s name, because as soon as he thought of it, he was suddenly struck by how lonely she was; cold, yes, and distant, but maybe that was as much his fault as it was her nature. She’d come so far from her home, left everything she’d known behind her. He had Adessa and the people and his children, both bastards and legitimate, everything he loved and all she had were books and numbers to give her comfort.

He pressed his forehead to the cool rough bark of the tree and shook his head weekly. “I can’t love her… I know she’s trying, but…”

The cold wind rustled the branches and the moonlight shone on his back. There were greater things at stake than the personal problems of either him, or his wife. Chello had known it all along. She made that choice when she came north to marry him, when she sacrificed her home to get her father and her old kingdom out of debt.

“Why do you ask me to be so noble? Why do I have to be brave and perfect?”

Because he was the king. Dignity, Duty, Mastery…

A girl had reminded him of that last new year, when he was in Karmozijin Kerk. All the Vassals had taken that oath to Aed and to the Empire. Many kings in the north may only have done lip service, but Elon was supposed to be different. “Live with strength, die with honor,” it was the Christallo motto. It wasn’t just physical strength that it meant, more importantly it was the strength to stand by their word and to do their duty, so that at the end of their lives they could regret nothing and die with honor and peace.

Letting out a defeated, brokenhearted sigh, Azlyn turned and sat on the cold ground, his back leaning against the trunk. He gave up trying to argue. He knew what was right, knew that he wanted to be able to live by the words and faith of his family, he just didn’t know if he had the strength to do so.

“Oleo, give me the stubborn will to do my duty,” he muttered. Hoping the legends were right and something more than sap flowed thought the tree.

He sat there for hours. It was cold, but the elements hardly bothered him. He took his pan flute out play it for a while, songs he usually didn’t play, sad songs, solemn songs and he prayed more than he ever had before.

It was nearing sunrise when the first people began to get up and make their way through the streets. In the dim grey light of predawn, he saw and old man on a horse riding down into the square.

“You there,” he called, getting up from the ground.

The man looked at him startled and Azlyn was surprised to recognize Captain Baramias.

“Your Majesty,” Joao said, coming over and looking at Azlyn in concern, “What are you doing out here so early?”

“I was praying. Joao, may I borrow your horse? I’ll have it back before evening. You can use one of the others from the royal stable, while I’m away.”

“Of course Your Majesty.” Joao dismounted, “If you don’t mind me asking, where are you going?”

“I can’t explain at the moment,” Azlyn said, swinging up into the saddle. Looking down at the man, he suddenly was aware of the look of intense hope and admiration in the old man’s eyes. Chello was right. These men were counting on him to be more than he was. May Aed give me the strength to be even half of what they believed of me.

“Joao, you don’t need to address my as Your Majesty. Azlyn is fine, or King Azlyn if you must.”

Joao nodded and smiled slightly, helping, as Azlyn lower stirrups on the saddle. “Alright, King Azlyn. Shall I tell the manner that you will be away for the day?”

“No… Well, if anyone asks say that I’m fine and will be back before supper. Aed’s blessing, Joao.”

With that Azlyn kicked the horse into a gallop and rode off.

***

That evening Chello was having an early supper with the head magistrate, Grandmother Jasmine and some of the other scholars. They were in one of the office parlors, which had been redecorated in the fashion of Arkhaer. Evo and a few of the others were practicing their classical Surveakom on the other side of the table and Jasmine was telling her about older times, but Chello was having trouble paying attention to any of them.

She’d had an uneasy feeling all day and hadn’t seen Azlyn since he stomped away the night before. It wasn’t unusual for the King to go out riding all day long and she’d heard one of his men say that was what he’d done, but she was worried all the same.

“In some ways the old pagan spirits aren’t all that incompatible with Aedakom,” Jasmine was saying, “It seems strange, but many of the common people full heartily believe in both and-”

There was a sudden noise out in the halls and the doors were flung open. Azlyn stood there, his curly hair a windblown mess, wearing the same clothes he’d had on the night before. His skin was still ruddy from the cold winds outside and he smelled of horses and winter rain. He seemed totally out of place in the parlor and all the students and librarians seated around the table blinked at him.

“Azlyn what’s happened? Where have you been?” asked Chello.

“I need to speak with you alone,” he said.

Chello glanced at the others and waved them out with a slight motion of her hand. Wordlessly, they obeyed walking through the doors, hardly nodding to the king as the passed him. Only Grandmother Jasmine took the time to curtsy and say politely “My Lord,” as she left the room.

Azlyn closed the doors behind them. “I went to see Adessa,” he said. His deep voice heavy as a leaden stone.

Chello looked back at him tensely, “And…?”

Azlyn swallowed, “I told her it was over.”

Chello could see the heartbreak in his face, knew how hard it had been for him, but she could also see his determination and suddenly she loved him, as she had the first day she’d seen him; the bold, hansom and strong king, riding his gallant horse.

Hurrying to him she did her best to hold him close around her pregnant belly, “Oh Azlyn, I know what it meant to you. Thank you.” Hesitantly, she rested her cheek on his chest.

He hesitated a moment too, but then put a hand on her hair and stroked it. For a brief second they shared a tender if awkward moment then Chello pulled away.

“It’s for the best. I know Aed will rewa—Ahh!” In a sudden gasp of pain, she clutched at her stomach. Chello’s legs gave out as she gave another cry.

Azlyn hurriedly caught her, a look of alarm in his eyes. “Chello!?”

In a frightened panic, she clutched his shirt, her blue eyes as wide and terror stricken as a little girl’s. “It’s the baby!”