As Kidu, Lord Edmon, and Seordmeister Arthero followed the Aredunian escort toward the Gildemanse, they cut through a military encampment of sparse tents and veered north, their horses’ hooves clop-clopping against the sun-baked clay.

“There are barely any guards or barracks here,” Kidu noted.

“Why do you say that…should we worry about Kienne invading us?” the Aredunian escort chuckled.

“The Crossing is five miles of bridge,” Edmon explained. “Any marching army, on horse or on foot, will be exposed.”

“Just the regular trade caravans and people-trains pass through,” the escort said. “Don’t worry, you’ll see an army soon enough.”

After riding for about an hour, they came across another encampment. There were the most horses Kidu had ever seen. There must have been hundreds, if not thousands of them. All organized and marching together like a parade, many of them in turnout blankets.

“They take care of their horses like no other,” Arthero said. “Here are the Winged Spears. Some say the greatest cavalry in the world. The Neredunian Field Riders would disagree, but they’ve never met the Winged Spears on an open field.”

“Terrain matters,” Edmon said. “The Winged Spears do well on hard, flat ground. They move together like a flock of starlings in the sky, whirling together in unpredictable patterns. The Field Riders are masters of tactics, adopting every move interest their next formation. They move across difficult terrain like mud like an easy road. Also each rider for the Winged Spears is bonded to a single horse, they are good for single battles. Neredunian Field Riders have four horses to a man, so that he may always have a fresh horse during battle.”

“It looks like a parade, they way they train,” Kidu said, following the streams of formations.

“Why are they here?” Edmon asked. “They should be east, protecting the border against the Isnumurti. We must speak to Captain Delger when we get to the city. The Captain commands the Winged Spears.”

By late afternoon they entered the city surrounded by massive stone walls that looked like they were carved out of the base of a mountain. The Gildemanse itself was not too far from the city walls. Six circular towers connected through several levels, with all levels going to the central tower. Hundreds of buildings cascaded from the lower level of the towers, spilling into a terraced city surrounded by high walls. The castle was built with a yellowish stone that made it glow golden in the afternoon. Kidu marvelled at the castle not for the grand beauty as in Lanfrydhall, but rather for the utter solitude of such a gargantuan structure in the expase of the flat area around it.

The escort raised a flag and continued to gallop through the city. As they neared the castle the porticullis raised but their horses did not slow down as they galloped through the entry way. They followed the guard to one of the towers. At the base of the tower the guard dismounted. "This is the Tower of Providence. You will be admitted to the king here. I take my leave."

The tower guards had half helms and yellow tunics draped over half plate armor. Two of them approached and searched them for weapons.

“I’ll take your sword and dagger, sir,” the guard said to Arthero. “There are no weapons allowed in the king’s presence.”

Arthero unbuckled them both from his sword belt and handed it over. “The pommel of that sword is an heirloom from the days of King Searc, which makes it older than your republic. Do not set it on the ground, even though it is sheathed.”

One guard took the sword and dagger and cradled them in his arms like a bundle of firewood. The other guard led them up a flight in the Tower of Providence. Kidu helped Edmon climb the stairs, as he struggled with his cane. At the second story the stairs led to a large airy audience room full of candles and lanterns, where the king was waiting.

Kidu knew that Padrig was called the Boy King, but Kidu expected more king and less boy. Padrig was only ten and hardly looked like the leader of the Republic of Aredun. He had bright blond hair with tufts poking out from beneath the golden crown. He wore a dark brown surcoat with a thin white leather belt with a gold buckle, his legs fidgeting on his seat while the queen mother Helena took the customary queen's seat to his left. The queen mother was young and radiated with her pale yellow dress and bright brown curls.

"Welcome to the Gildemanse, sons of Kienne," the queen mother said.

"Your graces," Edmon leaned on his cane and bowed. "The radiance of the Gildemanse eminate from the blessings of your house."

"How is our cousin Gordyn?" Padrig asked, his left knee bouncing. Helena reached out and put her hand on his knee to still it.

"The king is ill, I'm afraid," Edmon explained. “King Gordyn is eighty-eight, a very advanced age. His wits and wisdom have not diminished, but they are held hostage by a failing body. The crown prince Andrew has taken rule over the kingdom while his father is ill."

“Gordyn has always been kind to me, and so have you, Edmon," Padrig said. "I do hope he gets better soon."

"As do I, your grace," Edmon said. "Unfortunately with all the knowledge stored in our libraries they have never discovered a cure for old age. I fear he may be passing on to the next realm soon, bless the King."

“Bless the King,” Arethero repeated.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

"Didn't one of your kings live to a hundred and fifty?" Padrig asked. "One of your Lanfryds?"

Edmon nodded. "Yes, one of them, to one hundred and forty-five. We've had many Lanfryds. That one was Lanfryd the Fifth, probably most well known as Lanfryd the Uniter.”

"You have such a rich history of famous kings," the boy said. "Tell me more about the Uniter."

"Well, your grace," Edmon started, "he was called the Uniter because he brokered peace accords with all the other kingdoms. The four kingdoms had such bad blood for a long time and it was Lanfryd the Fifth that reached out to them. Lanfryd travelled himself and offered his hand in friendship to every kingdom. He achieved a unifying accord that allowed great things to be built and discovered.”

“I sense there is a moral to this story?” the queen mother asked.

“King Padrig asked, your grace,” Edmon answered, his palm out as if explaining itself. “I suppose if there were any moral to that story, it would be that history favors the united.”

“What else did he do?” Padrig asked. “Tell me more, Lord Edmon.”

“Well, one of his greatest and most lasting accomplishments was when he called for a gathering of scholars from across the kingdoms,” Edmon continued. “That hadn’t happened before. It was in one of these gatherings where we created a universal calendar, the same one that we all, and you, still use today. He also commissioned the invention the wine press, and who wouldn't sing his praises for that? He outlived all his children so once he passed away, his grandchild took the throne. Lanfryd the Fifth is probably one of our most well known King, and we have holidays celebrating his birthday. We have had a long history of violence and turmoil, but Lanfryd the Fifth shows us that when kingdoms such as ours work together, we get things right.”

"I wish we had holidays for our kings," Padrig said. "Our kings are not as famous as yours."

"Jorgen the First is pretty famous," the queen said to him. "As is Germaint. Even the Kiennese know of Germaint and the Battle of the Boiling River.”

"Your grace, speaking of the Boiling River,” Edmon said, interrupting, "on the way here the guard of the Crossing had briefed us on the Isnumurti's recent foray into New Hearth."

"And what have you been told?" the queen mother asked.

"That it was a rout," Kidu said. "That the forest folk had challenged your castellan, and your castellan was killed on the spot. And his body was left in the middle of the field."

"Forgive me, this is Kidu of the Scales," Edmon said. "He's young, and has limited experience being in the Royal court.”

"We are not as formal as the councils of Kienne, so you may speak freely, as long as you also speak wisely.. However, it was not a rout as you say," Helena said. "When Gerhart fell in battle, our Captain Delger took command and made safe the city."

"Delger is in New Hearth?" Edmon asked. "But the Winged Spears are still here? We passed them on the way to the Gildemanse. Why is the Captain without his Wings to ride with him?"

"The Senate voted to send him alone without the Wings," Padrig said. "The governors would not allow it."

"The governors spoke for the Senate? Do the governors run the Republic now?" Edmon asked.

“The Republic is fragile, Lord Edmon,” Helena said. “Where the Senate has representational authority, they have no resources. The governors have all the wealth. The wealthy choose which laws to enforce. They control the vote of the Senate.”

“And so they send your most abled Captain of the greatest cavalry into conflict without any of the horses,” Edmon frowned. “I was hoping Captain Delger was here.”

“The Captain understands his duty,” she said. As should you. Tell me why you are here.”

“Did you not receive word?” Edmon asked, looking at both the boy king and his mother. “I sent a driver to deliver a message with our intentions. He was to hand it only to you before our arrival.”

“We received no such word, sir,” she said.

Edmon’s frown grew deeper. He could feel a headache coming. “It doesn’t matter. We’re here now. And there’s not much any of us can do if the Republic is fragile. And the best course is to deal with that fragility directly. We need the governors and the Senate united toward common cause.”

“You are here because we cannot solve our own problems, is that what you intend to declare?” Helena asked. “Kienne marches in to our rescue.”

“No, your grace,” Edmon bowed. “I’m in no condition to march. I’m just a servant. A crippled servant. And I’m a friend. That letter I wrote…I wish that…I’m a friend in a time when we need them. Mazi was a friend, to your kingdom and ours. He could enter any territory and find a warm audience eager for his wisdom and open to his actions.”

“I really liked him,” Padrig said. “I’m saddened by his passing.”

Edmon held his cane across both hands. He looked at the black polished hardwood. “He took the path for those who could not take the steps themselves. With his passing, you—no, all the territories—have lost a friend. We cannot replace him, so it will take all of us to leave the comforts of our seats, travel many miles, cross entire canyons to sit at each other’s tables and find the common cause. There is an enemy at your doorstep. Aredun’s enemy is Kienne’s enemy. It is not just our word, but our lasting treaty makes it so. We just need to have all the governors and the Senate to see it that way.”

“A lot of words you’ve used, Edmon,” Helena said. “Behind the flower of your words, you’re speaking about how we have ignored showing up your council. We see no value in our presence in Lanfrydhall. The enemy is at our borders, as you say. The council could have been here. Should have been here. But it does not matter, as the governors won’t listen.”

"How do you get your people to listen to you, Edmon?" Padrig asked.

"Your grace, we are not a republic," Edmon explained. "We have no governors or senators. The king in Kienne is the sole voice.”

"But you have Earls," Padrig pressed. "They're like governors."

Edmon placed his fingers on his temple. He had just finished riding for days and did not anticipate bantering with the boy king about governing. The dizziness from the Crossing had not completely subsided.

"The senate, your Graces,” Edmon continued, "how long would it be to ask for a hearing?"

“They are all gathered here in the Kingsfelt. Many have offices here in the Gildemanse, and word can easily be sent to those who are not,” the queen mother answered. “But they don’t like being summoned, I can attest to that.”

Edmon drummed his fingers along his folded arms. His head began hurting more, so he took a couple of deep breaths. “Very good. Let us call the Senate to order. They are the voice of the States, and through them we can make our case to the governors for their support."

"Another meeting?" Kidu asked. “I thought I’d see the world, not travel hundreds of miles to sit in another meeting."

"Not every conflict requires a fist, Kidu," Edmon said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “War is won through fighting. But governance, that’s accomplished…through…”

Edmon stumbled and fell to one knee, his cane keeping him from falling down.

"Lord Edmon!" cried the queen mother.

Arthero grabbed Edmon by the arm just as he was about to fall completely to the ground. “It is his sickness,” Arthero said.

“What sickness?” Kidu asked.

“He’s had this ailment his entire life, it is what causes his limbs to be weak,” Arthero answered. “We need a bloodletter, with haste.”