Spahen took a deep breath and knocked on the intricately carved lion’s head door, turning the handle when a voice from within called for him to enter the oversized and excessively rich study where the Lion King, his bodyguard, and a small handful of men were having a midday meeting of some sort over lunch. “Your Majesty,” he said and bowed with a flourish.

“Ah! You must be our new councilman from the Bear Tribe,” the king said, standing up to walk the length of the room and greet him by the door while the rest of the men scrambled to respectfully find their feet as well. “I’ve been expecting you. You seem… familiar. Have we met before?”

“I don’t believe I’ve had that honor, Your Majesty,” Spahen said with a barely there, for-the-king’s-eyes-only wink that caused a slight upward twitch of his target’s lips. “I must have one of those faces. My name is Brennen Spahen, sent by tribe leader Recht from the Council of Elders for this diplomatic immersion assignment, and I am at your service. I hope to learn a great deal as a temporary member of your court.”

“Wonderful! I’m glad you can be here, Councilman Spahen,” King Rex reciprocated and then turned to gesture to the group still surrounding a large table. “Would you care to join us?”

“Thank you for the invitation, Your Majesty, but I do not wish to intrude on your meeting any more than I already have.”

“Of course. I’m sure you’re wanting to get settled in as well.”

“I connected with one of the palace stewards on my way in. I believe they are preparing a guest room for me as we speak, and I shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

“I understand. In that case, I’ll see you again in a couple of hours when we gather for the afternoon meetings. You can introduce yourself to the council then.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty. I’ll look forward to it,” Spahen closed with another bow and took his leave, the door clicking into the latch gently behind him with the help of the guards posted outside the door.

He’d never been inside a palace before. The Bear Tribe was unusual in that the center of government, including the tribe leader herself, was housed at the Leader’s Lodge, an elaborate network of log cabin-styled structures connected by a web of boardwalks with gardens and courtyards filling the open spaces in between. The Leader’s Lodge was at once a single structure and an entire city, a compact community and the capital of the Bear Tribe. By contrast, the Lion Tribe’s center of government — the king and much of his council — were housed in a single sandstone palace with mazes of hallways, entire wings serving different functions, multiple floors, and plenty of enormous entertaining spaces for parties. Connected to the palace military base with great courtyards and a grove of trees creating a visual barrier between the two, the palace and base were separated from the capital city of Astu Centralis by a few miles of empty road. It made the two governments intrinsically different from each other. The Bear Tribe government was a part of the Bear Tribe — integrated; the Lion Tribe government was apart from the Lion Tribe — above it.

Spahen spent the walk to the wing of guest rooms pondering how these differences might affect policies and the overall relationship between the crown and its subjects. Ultimately, he determined that it might be interesting merely observing the Lion King’s court to take note of such things.

“Ah! Councilman Spahen, your room is just this way.”

Spahen pulled his head out of his thoughts and made an effort to pay closer attention to his surroundings as the steward guided him up some stairs and through the hallways with more intention than his previous meandering. The guest rooms were housed in a wing on the north west side of the palace. The halls here were built from a darker, rosier sandstone than the front face of the palace, but the architecture was no less extravagant. Meticulously carved columns with detailed bases, floral capitals, and fluted shafts in between, the floors a smooth, polished stone with nearly seamless joints between each massive tile, the ceilings high and also carved with intricate artistic scenes that seemed to tell a story from panel to panel — the artisanship was exquisite, and Spahen found himself distractedly watching the ceiling rather than paying attention to where his room was.

The steward stopped him beneath an image of a man in armor — a warrior — peacefully sleeping on a carpet of wildflowers, his helmet removed to reveal curly hair and a chiseled jaw, the forest beyond the meadow of his resting place ominously hiding a figure brandishing a knife. He’d have to explore the rest of the hallway to see if that knife slit the warrior’s throat in his sleep.

“Sir? Is the room to your liking?”

Tearing his eyes away from the intriguing story above him, Spahen entered the guest room. Richly furnished with an oversized, four-poster bed burdened with too many pillows and privacy drapes and beautifully decorated with elaborately woven tapestries and masterful paintings, it was evident that in Lion Tribe culture it was important to present well to guests. “It’s beautiful, thank you.”

“Very good,” the steward said with a small bow that revealed a small bald spot at the back of his graying head. “If ever you need anything, please let any of the palace servants know.”

“Thank you,” Spahen repeated. “I’m sorry, what was your name again?”

“Steward Negotium, at your service,” the steward bowed a second time while Spahen committed his name and appearance to memory: the formed and forming wrinkles of his face, his resting expression, his rigid posture and wiry frame, his oversized, triangular nose and large, leathery ears.

“Steward Negotium, were I to find a need for something, where would I find you?”

“Ah! Any of the servants can help you.”

“But if I wanted to speak with you personally?” Spahen pressed delicately.

“Any of my staff could find me for you,” Negotium insisted, and Spahen donned an appeased smile.

“Thank you again.”

“My pleasure, Councilman.”

As the steward shut the door behind him, Spahen turned to better take in his surroundings. The room was dark except for an oil lamp on a bedside table. He looked for a window and found an entire wall of them hiding behind tapestries cleverly proportioned to double as floor-to-ceiling curtains without disrupting the glamorous hunting scene woven across their threads. In the winter, the tapestries would be important to insulate the windows and keep the room warm. Tasseled curtain ties made the tapestries easy to pin back, and soon the room was flooded with sunlight. The windows doubled as doors, opening in pairs onto a private, covered porch overlooking a pristine water garden and the well-manicured western courtyards. Beyond that lay a sprawling meadow that looked a little too perfect to be truly wild, and beyond that, an ancient, desert forest, the trees shorter, scragglier, and more spaced out compared to the forests of the Bear Tribe’s lush, evergreen mountains. It was undeniably beautiful though.

But he wanted to know what happened to the sleeping warrior on the hallway ceiling, and if he was to find out before the afternoon council meetings, he needed to get moving. He exited the room, taking stock of his surroundings so he could find the correct door later, and looked up once again, following the scenic ceiling art to the next panel. It portrayed a close up of the forest where a cloaked figure had now fully emerged, still brandishing a naked knife, building suspense before the hallway turned a corner, and Spahen was impressed by the artistry in the storytelling. He turned to find the cloaked figure now hunched over the sleeping soldier, long, wavy hair spilling from the depths of its hood. Having reunited with her recently, the hair reminded him of Beta’s tresses. Next panel: the soldier was awake, staring up into the hood with wide eyes and a slack jaw. Either fear or awe was intended from such an expression; Spahen moved on quickly to determine which. In the last panel, the hood had fallen back, revealing a beautiful woman. The warrior now sat upright, controlling her wrist holding the knife with one hand while cupping her cheek with the other. Spahen snorted involuntarily as the parallel of the wavy hair superimposed Beta’s image over the woman’s. “Yeah, she’d slit his throat just for touching her like that without permission,” he muttered to himself.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“I’m sorry?” Spahen startled, looking down and meeting a pair of clever brown eyes peering up from the face of a thirty-something aged man. “I apologize for startling you.”

“It’s no problem,” Spahen said with an easy, politician’s smile. “It’s my fault for not paying attention to my surroundings."

“I see you’ve found the murals of Caelus and Lamia,” the man observed.

“I’m not familiar with that story.”

“You’re not from here, are you?”

“You are correct,” Spahen nodded, looking back up at the carved scene above him. “I’m here on temporary exchange from the Bear Tribe Council of Elders to the Lion King’s court.”

“A fellow councilman! I’m Sollers Trebax.”

“Brennen Spahen,” he returned, his interest in this councilman doubly piqued because of his familiar name.

“I was just heading to the afternoon council meeting. Would you care to join me?”

“Thank you, yes. I’m still gathering my bearings,” Spahen laughed a little in self-deprecation as he fell into step with Councilman Trebax. “Perhaps you’d like to tell me the story of Caelus and Lamia?”

“If you’d like,” Trebax chuckled. “It’s little more than a children’s fairytale.”

“It’s new to me,” Spahen encouraged him.

“The story starts with a holy war — the great animal Guardians of the spirit realm, Sidus, fighting the lifeless troops of the Black Dragon to prevent him from stealing the souls he would need to expand his army into an extermination force against humanity. The Lion Primordial was one such Guardian who led his pride into battle. He was wounded, and as such, he fell from the heavens into our realm.

“Unstable in his spirit form and otherwise damaged, the great Lion was found by Caelus, an ambitious young soldier of the Probitas Dynasty, and the Lion Primordial appealed to him for his hospitality. Caelus agreed to host the Lion spirit if the Lion would consent to share his power with him. The Lion warned Caelus that such power, uncontrolled, could destroy him, but Caelus insisted, and the Lion was desperate. They joined, host and animal spirit, and Caelus, ever ambitious, used the power of the Lion Primordial to overthrow the Probitas Dynasty and name himself the new king. Drunk with power, Caelus was a tyrant, selfishly using his people as pawns to pursue his whims of wars, wine, and women.

“Meanwhile, the Guardians of Sidus, the lionesses of his pride, having pushed back the Black Dragon’s forces, started looking for their lost leader, and they found him, bound to the cruel and capricious Caelus. The lionesses couldn’t bear to watch his suffering and formed a plan. Semel, the first lioness of his pride, entered the human realm and found Lamia, a young woman renowned for her beauty and virtue in a neighboring tribe that was struggling to fight off Caelus’s armies. Semel proposed a new bond that would give Lamia the power to help her tribe resist and kill Caelus, and thereby free the Lion Primordial from his host. Lamia agreed willingly.

“With the power of Semel, Lamia rallied her tribe and fought back against Caelus’s armies. The battle was brutal, a stalemate, and Caelus withdrew with his army to regroup. Lamia, at Semel’s urging, followed Caelus’s retreat on her own and concealed herself nearby to wait for exhaustion to overtake the camp. Soon Caelus and his men fell into a deep sleep, and Lamia crept forward, determined to assassinate the tyrant.

“Knife already in hand, she stooped over his sleeping form and hesitated. Caelus, for all his cruelty, was peaceful as he slept. The hesitation cost Lamia her opportunity. Caelus awoke and was immediately entranced by Lamia’s beauty, and the deep bonds of the lions they both hosted only added to their instant connection. Lamia was seduced by Caelus, only to discover that giving herself to him didn’t change anything. Caelus was still cruel and ambitious and determined to subject her people. So she killed him, freeing the Lion Primordial, and in her grief, Lamia took her own life, freeing Semel as well.”

“That’s it?” Spahen frowned. “That’s how the story ends?”

“That’s it,” Trebax confirmed as they approached a pair of massive, gaudily gilded, carved desert acacia wood doors at the end of a column-lined hall.

“That’s depressing,” he mused softly. “That’s a Lion Tribe fairytale?”

“It is,” Trebax laughed at the scowl lining Spahen’s forehead. “It’s a cautionary tale, to be sure.”

“What’s it supposed to caution you about?”

“Well, there isn’t a specific moral,” Trebax shrugged, “but it certainly explores the dangers of making deals with people you don’t know well, or hesitating in your duty, or being seduced by a pretty face.”

“That’s… that’s so Lion Tribe-y.”

“You’re not wrong,” Trebax laughed, a pair of palace guards opening the double doors leading into the throne room.

It was beautiful. The room itself was massive. Straight ahead sat a set of three high-backed thrones on a raised platform at the center of the room. The largest, middle throne was obviously intended for the Lion King himself; the other two, Spahen speculated, were most likely for his queen and his heir. Like the doors, the thrones were made from beautifully carved acacia wood and gilded with gold leaf. They were also luxuriously cushioned between tall armrests on either side — probably by necessity, as the Lion King surely spent many hours sitting upon that throne in council meetings every day.

To the right, the floor raised a couple of steps to where the king’s council sat upon shallow platforms outfitted with thick cushions, a single, low armrest to lean against, and a small desk. A cursory estimate suggested that there were around two hundred such platforms, and therefore around two hundred councilmembers. The wall behind the council sported open clerestory windows and a solitary door tucked in the corner, allowing council members to make quiet entrances and exits as needed.

To his immediate left, a heavy table was being stored where the room opened shallowly to a tall wall with more clerestory windows ushering in a cross breeze. The wall was lined with the most decadent tapestries he’d ever seen that continued across the wall behind the thrones. But the focal point was the pointed dome of skylights above him that centered on the king’s throne. An architectural marvel all on its own, the glass panels made the need for alternative light sources moot and artistically emphasized the Lion King as the center of the government.

“Councilman Spahen, come take a seat,” Trebax ushered him to the right.

“Which seats are vacant?”

“I assume you are here to take Councilman Ars’s old seat,” Trebax said, guiding him to a platform on the second row next to the south-most wall. “He retired last month, and the king has yet to replace him. Let me know if you need anything. My seat is on the other side.”

“Thank you,” Spahen said, accepting his seat to then debate how to most comfortably sit in it. The cushion was quite large, the armrest positioned on the left-hand side. Glancing around at the few councilmen already sitting down, the idea was to lounge against the armrest on one’s hip, leaving the right and presumably dominant hand available for taking notes… or he could simply sit cross-legged on the cushion, which seemed more comfortable and more professional.

He sat down, and struck up a conversation with the councilman in front of him. “Hello, allow me to introduce myself. I’m Brennen Spahen, here on temporary exchange from the Bear Tribe.”

“Ah! Yes, I had heard that the king was considering an exchange,” the man said with a welcoming smile. “I’m Muto Legatus, the council spokesman. If you have any items you’d like to add to the council agenda, I’m the person to talk to. And this,” Legatus indicated the man sitting to his right, “is Councilman Epistola. He’s the one primarily responsible for recording the meeting minutes. Next to you is Councilman Notarius; he’s Epistola’s backup scribe.”

“It means we aren’t much good for company during meetings,” Epistola noted wryly.

“That’s alright,” Spahen said with a smile. “I tend to keep to myself anyway.”

“And what is your background, Councilman Spahen? What brings you here from the Bear Tribe?” Legatus queried curiously.

“In the Bear Tribe, I come from a long line of council elders — my father, his father, and his father before him and so on. My grandfather is still a member of the Council of Elders, and I’ve been serving as a member for the last few years. When the Lion King reached out to Tribe Leader Recht about a potential exchange, I volunteered. I am quite interested to learn more about your tribe's philosophies and law and how the Lion Tribe manages their internal affairs. And, of course, I hope to represent my own government well while I’m here.”

“Well welcome,” Legatus said, before turning to face the front in time to witness the Lion King enter the throne room and start the meeting.