Longinus climbed into the carriage as Child Elyus held the door for him. It started to move even before he was settled in his seat. That suited him fine. He wanted this over with.

This carriage that he had commandeered from the Lord of the Teorton Star Base, Star Captain Rinlous was as plain as it was uncomfortable. Sure, it was gilded with gold, inside and out, and it had soft cushions covering the hard wooden bench, but it was extraordinarily boring.

Firstly, it only had two wheels instead of the four he was used to in his carriage at the Fortress of Heaven in Branson’s Fork. Secondly, the suspension was horrid. He felt every bump and jostle, from the tiniest little street pebble to every large cobble out of place on the road. It made his old bones ache and threatened to shatter his teeth.

And he was forced to sit upon a bench? The indignity of it all! His carriage at the Fortress of Heaven, aptly named Shooting Star, had a plush throne inside the large cabin. There was only room for one to be seated. If he wished to have a conversation with anyone while in transit, they would have to stand or kneel as was proper. Next time he traveled by boat, he would insist on bringing his carriage with them. He would ensure the captain would make room for it, even if he had to discard some of his precious cargo.

It was bad enough that he had to go the king, instead of the other way around, but must he be tortured on the entire ride there? That was probably part of the king’s plan. If the king had any foresight, he would have sent his worst carriage to ferry Longinus to him. That would indeed have sent a message. But the king wasn’t as clever as that.

The carriage clattered on through the rich streets of Teorton. The houses—compounds, really, were a disgusting display of rich opulence. Each one had a tall wall or fancy iron fencing, or both. All extravagantly decorated in expensive materials meant to show their wealth.

Everywhere he looked were elaborately manicured hedges, intricately carved marble statues, and fountains decorated with gold. How much of the money they spent on such trifles could have gone to help the poor? Or defend Laryndor against its greatest threat? The monsters that loomed from the heavens?

How could no one see that? The greatest danger facing Laryndor was not the various factions of rulers who were constantly scheming or fighting against each other. It wasn’t the king of the Fenns, or the Archduke of Tambryne. It wasn’t the elves or the mysterious Fortru, the dwarves, or the raiders from Nordenland.

It was the invaders from space. They were out there, somewhere among the stars. They watched and analyzed. They knew all Laryndor’s secrets and weaknesses, yet none worried about the threat they posed. When the monsters from the heavens invaded, it would be a catastrophe.

That was why the Courageous Order of Heavens was founded. It was their goal and responsibility to face the threats from space head-on and fight the monsters when they finally chose to invade. But to do that, they needed support. They needed warriors and gold and equipment. If only their mortal enemies, the Shielders would share their equipment and tactics.

They would all bow to Longinus one day. When the Children repelled the invasion without the help of the kingdoms, he would be in charge. They would all owe so great a debt to him and the Children, they would be honor bound to make him their ruler. And if they didn’t, they would join the invaders in their assault, for a time at least, and take their crowns by force.

The carriage clattered to a halt at the large brick gatehouse entrance to the king’s palace. Two guards stood beside him. They wore tabards with the rearing dragon sigil of the king’s house over chainmail armor. Each held a long halberd and carried a sword on their hips. The only thing Longinus could think was how useless these two men would be in the face of his magic. Just as his gate guards had been useless in the face of the young prince’s magic. One little spell and they had slept for hours. That was something Longinus would have to address. He needed more sorcerers.

The carriage driver spoke briefly to the gate guards, who stepped away for a moment before opening the gate. The carriage lurched into motion and Longinus left the gatekeepers behind while the carriage made the final bit of the journey to the front door of the palace.

The courtyard was, once again, a paragon of opulence. Every wall was decorated with marble statues and cascading fountains. The palace itself was made of brick and stone and covered with plaster. In areas where one would expect an iron gate, the king instead had used gold and silver. It was disgusting. How many mouths could just this courtyard feed? How many weapons could they have paid for to defend Laryndor from the Threat?

The carriage finally, mercifully, pulled to a stop. He wasn’t sure his insides could have tolerated any further bouncing about. He had lost all feeling in his buttocks, possibly permanently. He was going to be traveling with his own carriage in the future.

The driver hopped down and popped the door open. A servant bearing King Llarwyn’s livery had brought a stool and set it before Longinus. The driver held out his hand and helped Longinus out. He stepped down with his head high and shoulders back. No doubt the king was hiding behind a window somewhere watching for weakness; something Longinus would have done in his place.

A man dressed in the an all black version of the same livery as the servant, in much finer material and cut stepped forward. A large wart was prominent on his thin, beaked nose and gaunt face. Despite having the look of a decaying corpse, he seemed a spry fellow. He hopped down the stairs and presented himself before Longinus. He bowed his head slightly in a small show of respect for Longinus’ position.

“Welcome, Lord Longinus,” the man said, “I am Lord Smyton, the king’s Chamberlain. I have come to escort you to His Grace, King Llarwyn.”

Longinus didn’t say anything. He just gestured toward the door in a manner that suggested he said lead on and started walking towards the door. Lord Smyton had to hurry to catch up with him lest it be assumed that the leader of the Courageous Order of Heavens was the one leading Smyton into the palace.

Once inside the palace, the opulence continued. The walls were well-painted plaster, and just about every wall was covered with a tapestry depicting soldiers fighting in blood-splashed armor in what was most likely glorious victories for the Kingdom of Camulan. Those days seemed long, long ago, and according to the apparent condition of the tapestries, they were. The current king wouldn’t know a glorious victory if it hit him upon the head.

It wasn’t long before he was led to a pair of large elaborately carved double doors. Servants had been scurrying around, disappearing behind hidden doors, but that activity had ceased. All he saw at the entrance to the double doors was another pair of guards with halberds flanking the doors.

Lord Smyton bid him to wait and disappeared behind the doors. He didn’t have to ask the guards where he was to ascertain his location. This was the Grand Throne Room. What an insult. The king had brought him here to meet with him like a common supplicant—as though he were petitioning the king to rule between him and some peasant farmer who had stolen his sheep.

He had expected Smyton to return quickly, but he did not. Longinus was made to stand in the hallway trying not to look anxious and bored. There was no seat to rest upon, nor any refreshments provided. He just had to stand there. He did his best to keep his head up and shoulder’s back, but his old muscles ached from holding the position for so long. After a while his knees and feet started to get sore, and a cramp was threatening to climb its way up his calf. His initial annoyance had grown past insult and anger. It was well on its way towards red-hot rage.

How dare he be kept out here waiting. He had the king’s son as a prisoner. He was within his rights to execute him. He would expect that his grace would be eager to meet with him. Why had he not been shown all the respect and grace as befitted his station? Were the other nobles also treated like this? Maybe it was time to encourage a revolt among them. This treatment was just disgraceful!

The doors finally opened, and Lord Smyton reappeared holding an elaborately decorated staff. He beckoned Lord Longinus in, making him stop at the threshold. Smyton thumped the staff on the ground twice before speaking.

“His Radiance Longinus, Supreme Star Lord of the Courageous Order of Heavens!” He announced loudly.

To no one; the room was empty. Well, not entirely empty. It was filled with the king’s household guards, over a hundred of them by Longinus’ estimation. Each in plate armor polished so much it shone like the sun. Over that armor they wore clean white tabards with the sigil of Llarwyn’s house emblazoned upon it. Ranks upon ranks of men carried halberds with swords at their hips. Higher up in the balconies of the throne room were archers, dressed similarly, save for the armor. Instead of plate, they were dressed in simple leather.

Very grand for such a simple meeting.

The soldiers appeared to be guarding an empty room. The king, his retainers, his counselors, all missing. Not even a servant was in attendance. He had been made to wait at the door, and now he was going to be made to wait once again.

The room itself was a large hall supported by thick marble pillars. Each one of these led up to a crisscrossing of groined vaults. These, like the tapestries were elaborately painted with scenes from battles where Llarwyn’s house was the victor.

At the head of the room, directly opposite the door sat the throne on an elevated dais. It was made from solid gold, or so the stories said, and covered in red, plush velvet cushions. The engravings were of bears battling men with swords. Some called this the Bear Throne, and its reputation was that it was won in blood, which was what the red cushions symbolized.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Fortunately, this time, he didn’t have to wait long. After a clearly measured amount of time, Lord Smyton mounted the dais and opened a door to his left. From this door a dozen trumpeters marched out, dressed very lavishly in velvet doublets. They brought their horns to their lips and blew a glorious fanfare. It was so loud that Longinus had to cover his ears.

When they were finished, Smyton waited another measured time, then banged his stick on the floor again and shouted, “His Lordship Kaorc of House Thaed, Warden of the Fort, Baron of Camulan!”

The man who entered was a tall, brutish man. He would always be at least a head taller than everyone else in the room, and had clearly been made from stone, not born from anything human. He scowled at Longinus as he crossed the dais to stand beside the throne. The empty scabbard on his back told of a massive sword that he would normally carry.

This was the father of the young man who had been captured along with the prince. He was a powerful noble with a very large and very private army at his disposal. If he chose to, he would be a real threat to Llarwyn’s hold on the throne.

Once again, the trumpeters put their horns to their mouths and blew a loud fanfare, more extravagant than the last with melodies and counter melodies layering on top of each other and a grand and impressive tapestry of sound. Longinus would have enjoyed it if it weren’t so loud he couldn’t hear himself think.

Immediately after the trumpeters had finished, Smyton once again banged his stick on the ground three times, then a pause, then three more times. On the third of each round of pounding, the assembled soldiers pounded their halberds into the ground with a deafening thump.

“His grace, King Llarwyn of house Camul, Defender of the Coast, Lord of the Claws, Conqueror of the Vanquished, Master of the Great Bog, King of Camulan!”

The soldiers began banging their halberds in a steady rhythm. Young children gracefully danced from the door with baskets of flower petals, which they gleefully tossed along the path between the door and the throne.

Next to enter was Archstar Boress, the Highest of the Temple of Laryn and Lord of the Faith. He was dressed in an elaborate white robe embroidered with thread-of-gold from the top to the bottom in strange glyphs and circular designs. He wore a large oblong conical hat atop his head.

He entered just ahead of the king, who was dressed in a massive golden crown, and a red velvet cloak trimmed in fur. His fat doublet had been stretched so tight around his expanding midsection that Longinus was afraid that the buttons would fail to hold his girth back.

He carried a small symbolic shield in his hand that bore a dragon sigil in one hand, and a small staff with a golden spear point at its tip in the other. The Dragonshield and Spear, symbols of the office of the King of Camulan.

Instead of the normal staff of his office, the archstar carried a vessel filled with a liquid, probably an oil that he sprinkled over the path and atop the king’s head as he walked grandly to the throne.

As soon as the king entered, the guards began yelling, “For the king!” over and over. Between that, the pounding of their halberds on the ground, and the new melody the trumpeters had begin playing, Longinus felt like his head was going to explode. He clapped his hands over his ears in a vain attempt to protect his hearing.

When the king finally sat on the throne, all sound stopped abruptly. The sudden silence was deafening. He felt as though he had been running along a road and the road and suddenly vanished, and he was in a limbo of hovering just before he would begin to fall. He shuffled his feet to make sure that he was still grounded.

The children sprinkled him with their flower petals while the archstar anointed him with the oil. “Be wise, be merciful, be just,” the archstar kept repeating as he poured.

When the archstar completed his ritual, he walked to the side of the throne opposite Lord Thaed while the children took their leave. They walked backwards along the path to the door, never once turning their back on the king.

The king looked at Longinus expectantly, waiting for him to do something. Make a formal bow, he supposed. He would not do it. Instead, he bowed his head slightly as Lord Smyton had done to him.

It appeared to be enough. “My Lord Longinus,” the king began, “apologies for keeping you waiting. I had important matters of state that required my urgent attention.”

“Is all this necessary, Your Grace?” Longinus asked. “Couldn’t we retire to a more intimate setting?” He had slim hope that they would after all the pomp and circumstance they had just gone through, but he had to make the effort.

“I receive you with all the respect and glory your station is due, and you have the nerve to be offended?” the king asked.

There was a commotion at the main doors to the throne room. Someone was trying to come in, but the guards were doing their absolute best to keep them out. There was some yelling and shouting, but with the doors closed, Longinus couldn’t make the words out.

Then there was a loud thump against the doors, followed by another. Both doors opened and a small man with a beard entered. He was nearly short enough to be a dwarf, though he was clearly human. He was a man who needed no introduction. This was Lord Asconce, the father of the boy his guards had killed. Behind him the two guards lay flat on their backs, unconscious.

Asconce stormed down the halls as the assembled guards nearest him pointed their halberds menacingly towards him. He stopped in front of Longinus, who thought for a moment the short man meant to attack him. He subtly put himself on his guard, but it was unnecessary. Asconce did nothing more than point.

“I demand this man’s head, Your Grace!” he shouted.

“No,” the king replied. “Be satisfied that I will not have you thrown in the dungeon for interrupting this meeting.”

Asconce, remembering where he was and who he was speaking to seemed to come to his senses. “I apologize, Your Grace, I wasn’t told of this meeting.” He bowed deeply before his king.

“Exactly for this reason. Now step away from Lord Longinus and come forward. I will allow you to remain if you do not interrupt again.”

He nodded his head again and walked away from Longinus. Asconce didn’t climb the dais, he noted. Longinus wondered if that was because of a lack of status, or because he wasn’t invited.

The king gestured to Smyton, who glared at two of the assembled guards closest to the doors and stamped his staff. The guards, realizing what he meant ran over, exited the room, and closed the doors behind them.

The king turned back to Longinus. “Lord Longinus,” he began, “You are to release my son immediately.”

“And mine,” Lord Thaed added on.

He felt the cold chill of fear suddenly. He didn’t know why, there was no need to fear the king. He wouldn’t do anything to Longinus so long as his son was captive. He pushed the fear back down.

“I am afraid I am unable to do so, Your Grace. He was found trespassing in one of our most holy places. As you know, it is within my rights to execute him for this sacrilege.”

Llarwyn’s knuckles turned white as he made a tight fist. He leaned forward for a moment as though he was going to leap out of his throne and beat Longinus, but he resisted.

“You would murder my son?” the king asked. “That would spell the end to your cult. There would not be a safe place for you in all of Laryndor for you or your followers. Your men would die, not before being tortured, your Star Bases would be burned to the ground, and your faith destroyed. I would spare you, of course, to live out your days in my dungeons as a plaything to my inquisitors.”

By inquisitors, he meant torturers.

Longinus backed down some. “You misunderstand me, Your Grace. I only meant to say that to do so was within my rights. I don’t want any harm to come to Prince Aeolwyn, but neither can I release him. There must be a punishment for this transgression.”

“What is your suggestion?” the king asked.

“Let him become my ward,” Longinus said, knowing Larwyn would never agree to such a thing. “Let him learn about our ways and why his foul deed was so offensive to us.”

“And let him turn into one of your zealots? Impossible.”

He needed a better suggestion, of course, and he had something in mind. Something that would give Child Fraius easy access to him. Something that would make Aeolwyn ripe for assassination. But he couldn’t bring it out just yet. They needed to be at an impasse; a place where his suggestion would seem like a fitting compromise.

Just a slight bit of magic from the Samahdin school, straight into Lord Smyton’s head would do it. He wouldn’t even know the idea came from him. The question was whether he could manage the spell without them noticing. It was a good thing Jor Bashi, the king’s mage wasn’t in attendance, because he would certainly notice.

“How about this, and it’s against my better judgement,” Llarwyn said, with a strange, creepy sort of smile on his face, “how about you release my son, and in exchange, I will grant you an exemption from your normal city tax levy for a year.”

“And my son!” Thaed added. The king glanced at Thaed and then nodded.

“Quite generous, Your Grace,” Lord Smyton said.

An empty offer. “We are already exempt from those taxes, Your Grace,” Longinus said.

“Then how about I don’t revoke your exemption?” Llarwyn retorted.

“Would you be willing to pay a ransom?” Longinus asked.

“I would,” the king responded. “How much would satisfy you?”

Longinus paused, making a show of contemplation. It had to be large enough that Llarwyn would refuse it, but large enough for him to believe Longinus serious.

“Considering your son’s status, and the nature of the transgressions, I think two hundred thousand pounds of gold would be sufficient.”

“Are you out of your mind?” The King shouted.

“It’s the only reasonable amount. After all, your son did murder one of my devotees.”

“He did?” the king asked incredulously. “I would not believe him to have it in him.”

Lord Smyton leaned over, “Of course he does, he is his father’s son, after all.”

Llarwyn smiled and nodded. “He is that,” he said. “Still Lord Longinus, that offer is outrageously high. 50 thousand would be too high, but I would be willing to pay that.”

“Regretfully, I cannot budge.”

“Nor I, you impetuous oaf! Guards, seize him!” Llarwyn shouted. The two guards nearest Longinus ran over and grabbed him by both arms. Two others came and pointed their halberds at his chest. He was upset and off balance. Now was the time to act.

“Please, Your Grace, let me have the honor of killing him!” Asconce shouted.

“No!” Llarwyn bellowed, standing and reaching for the dagger at his hip.

In the commotion, he was able to get his spell cast. He saw a faint glow as it settled into Lord Smyton’s head. It settled much too easily. Longinus would have expected the chamberlain to offer up some resistance.

“Your Grace,” Smyton said, putting himself between the king and Longinus. “This is much too hasty. Executing a man under your roof? He has, by invitation, been extended guest rights. This seems a bit bloodthirsty, and would erode the trust your nobles have placed in you.”

Llarwyn stopped and sheathed his dagger. “Perhaps you’re right, Smyton. What should we do with him then?”

“Perhaps exile would be a mutually acceptable punishment? We could send the boy to Fort Camulan.”

The king looked at Smyton for a time, then over to Longinus. “That would be acceptable to me. What say you, Lord Longinus?”

“I am amenable to that,” he said. Of course he was amenable to it, he was the one who put the idea into Smyton’s head. “As long as you agree to pay your 50-thousand-pound ransom.”

“Done!” the king said.

“What of my son?” Thaed added.

“And mine,” Asconce said.

“The Thaed boy will be exiled with the prince,” Longinus said.

“But only for a year,” the king added on. That was fine with Longinus. He didn’t really care what happened to the Thaed boy.

“Agreed,” Longinus turned to Asconce. He would have to throw this man a bone if he didn’t want him chasing him all across Laryndor. “I am sorry for your loss, Lord Asconce. I will pay a weregild of ten thousand pounds to your family.”

“Only ten thousand? He was my heir!”

“Make another, Asconce” the king grumbled.

Reluctantly, Asconce nodded. He was not happy with his weregild, having a loftier view of his status within the nobility. He would have to accept it though; Llarwyn was his king, and he had ordered it.

This had come together perfectly. It was almost worth the insult Llarwyn had done to him with his forcing Longinus to wait, and then endure all that pomp and circumstance. Aeolwyn would be outside of the king’s reach. It was a long journey to Fort Camulan. Fraius would make sure that he was dead before he got there.

Yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that Asconce would never be satisfied. He had made an enemy today.