ALLARD

The fire crackled as Ryla threw on some fresh logs. “Come sit.” She said to Allard but he had been sitting all day. He feared if he went anymore numb he would never feel his backside again. No, Allard preferred to pace the room, trying to enjoy what taste of freedom he had away from the horde.

“Seventy-four.” Allard muttered. “Seventy-four lords all gathered in one castle, in one hall, each with their own judgment and agenda. You’d have an easier time…” Allard trailed off, too drained to think of anything clever.

“Milking a horse, my lord?” Master Nickel offered as he sat at the side table with Master Selmond and Allard’s wife.

“Why would you milk a horse?” Selmond asked. Nickel shook his head.

“How many will there be tomorrow? And the day after?” Allard asked.

“They will keep coming until you’ve made a decision.” Ryla said.

“I was making my decision.” Allard said. “And then Gallae’s bloody letter came.”

The room gave each other a look of understanding. To ignore a command from the Prince is one thing, he isn’t on the throne and has little love in the north let alone here in the Forelands. But the Queen has ruled for over half a century. Her word is law.

“Read it again.” Allard commanded.

Selmond reached out and undid the scroll. “To my beloved wed-brother Allard, I hope all’s well. Word has reached the capital that you have found my husband safe and well. That puts me at ease. I hope that your brief return to Vanguard will give you and your men a chance to properly ready for the long journey before you. Her Grace has personally informed me that you can plan your arrival to coincide with the Queen’s forthcoming festivities. A gracious benevolence, I’m sure you recognise. I pray for my children’s sake to see their father and my husband soon. Yours, Lady Gallae Astarre.”

Selmond put the message down and let the words filter through the thoughts of all those present.

“Lady Gallae is a careful woman.” Selmond pointed out. “She uses her words with tact.”

“No doubt they were approved before release.” Ryla said. “The Queen’s words as much as her own.”

“No comment on Lord Leondre’s accusations.” Nickle said.

“If she were to testify against Lord Leondre the trust she carries as his wife may prove more influential than even the Prince.” Selmond said.

“Would she do such a thing?” Nickle asked.

“If her children were in danger.” Ryla answered.

Allard knew Gallae better than the rest but even still he didn’t know enough to rely on her. All he knew were the words she had sent, and they bore a grim omen.

Allard was near the edge. “A fourth of my bannermen want me to hand over my brother for it is the rule of law. Another fourth want me to because they believe the crown’s judgement shall be merciful. Then equally there is a cohort who don't want me to because they believe the crown will be harsh and potentially lethal in its justice. And the rest will never be content in an Astarre being judged by a Queen a realm away and a Prince they dislike.” Allard sighed. “We are given an extra week or so as some great kindness?”

“If a Lord is divided, his land will be divided.” The room turned as Raven entered. “Those were father’s words. Have you forgotten them, brother?”

Ennis stood behind her as she approached the table. “Forgive me, Allard.” Ennis said. She did not want to wait to be announced.”

“Why must a sister be announced to her kin?” Raven replied, grinning.

Ryla was the first to rise to meet her. She made her way to Raven’s side. “Sister, it is good to see you again. It has been too long.” She said, offering a hug.

“It has Ryla, how have you been?” Raven asked as she embraced her.

“Good. Age is catching up to me, a new wrinkle every fortnight.” Ryla japed.

“Nonsense, you’re as fair as the day you married my brother.” Raven said and turned to Selmond who had now risen to meet her. “Master Selmond.”

“It is heartening to see you return, Lady Maeve.” Selmond said. Selmond was the only who got to call her Maeve without being accosted. But now was not the time for pleasantries. Allard had enough to deal with.

“Out.” Allard said as politely as he could manage. Everyone quietly bowed and made their way to the door leaving only him and his sister.

I haven’t haven’t seen each other in years.

She was off gallivanting gods know where for most of her life. She had always been that way. Ever since Allard’s father had tried to betroth her to some nice young lord. She refused to be wed but Evander had insisted. So she ran away for a day. Then the next time a week. Then a fortnight. Eventually when she disappeared their father stopped looking. She’d always turn up with some new friend, or story, or scar. Soon she found she enjoyed life more as a wild Raven than as Lady Astarre.

“It’s been a while.” Allard said.

“It has.” Raven said, warming herself by the fire.

“Have you been well?” Allard asked.

“Tremendous. You should see the world, brother. You’d find it's a beautiful place.” She said. “If you ever left this castle of yours.”

“I am Lord of Vanguard, Liege Lord of the Forelands, and defender of the crown. My duties do not permit me to spend my summers swashbuckling and my winters...” Allard left for Raven to fill in.

“I have recently started trophy hunting. You get to work with the most interesting peoples, see some remarkable things, and it yields a return. In fact, I brought a gift.” Raven said, presenting something wrapped in cloth.

Allard wearily took the item and untied its wrap. As the rags fell away a tome of a book is revealed. A vibrant array of wild greens held the pages together as if was stitched together with leaves. On its face the golden image of a tree, its roots wrapping upward and around to create a perfect circle. The World Tree, Allard recognised. The one from the ancient Haakon’s whose gods were many and plentiful. Where stories of snakes as big as trees, and knights on top of Chimera were told alongside facts of history.

“Where did you get this? The Haakons didn’t ascribe their fables.” Allard said, mesmerized by the intricate detailing of the gold tree as he traced it with a finger.

“A friend.” Raven answered simply. “He thought it wrong that the old gods go forgotten because they are no longer considered cultured. I seem to remember someone else agreeing with that.”

The Forelands clung to the Haakon way closer than any of their descendants along the western realms, but Allard had always been fascinated than most by their lore and found it cruel that their tales should die with them. “What of the Athenaeum? Do they not make chronicles?”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“The skin and bones in the Athenaeum are far more concerned with hoarding knowledge than preserving it.” Raven said, watching Allard as he felt the weathered book in his grip.

But he did not open it. He had long given up on spending his time reading these sorts of stories after their father died. He rarely had the leisure as Liege Lord. Besides what would idle lords say? Either that he was a man who preferred to escape into fiction or even worse a lord who wishes to reignite the divisions of old. Before the realm was one.

A knock came on the door. Master Selmond entered. “Forgive me, my lord. But your supper is ready. You haven’t eaten in some time. And your medicines will need something to go down with.”

“Thank you, Master Selmond.” Allard nodded and turned back to Raven. “Have you seen him?” Allard asked.

Raven stared into the fire. “Dreadful. His eyes are not his own, brother. I will bring ruin to whoever did this to him.”

“Did this to him?” Allard echoed skeptically.

“I’d say it's that fool of a Prince. No doubt a lifetime of being a king-in-waiting has made him weak. Leo likely made some innocent remark and was taken poorly. Or even better, put the mantyke in his place.”

“What are you suggesting, sister? That the Prince poisoned our brother’s mind?” Allard asked.

Raven gave a knowing look in response. Selmond shuffled over to place the tray he carried down on the table next to Allard with herbal remedies. “Selmond.” Raven said. “Vanguard’s library has an account of every Lord and Lady Astarre does it not?”

“It does, my lady. All one hundred and forty two.” Selmond answered.

“And have any ever gone mad?” Raven asked. “Like my brother seems.”

Selmond took a breath. “Well four tragically took their own lives, three did claim to have heard the whispering, two are said to have died to beasts we aren’t sure ever live and one disappeared into the Deep Wood. But insanity?” Selmond said. “None.”

“None.” Raven repeated.

Allard gave a heavy sigh reluctantly taking his seat. “Why have you returned, sister?”

Raven leaned over him. “Because you weren’t making the right decision brother. The lords will continue to flock like vultures until you’ve made it. Swallow your pride. Take Leo to Briarhill.” Allard was not expecting that advice. “Have him do what needs to be done, bend the knee, beg forgiveness, whatever it takes to ensure our family is kept safe. If you do not, what happens when the Prince becomes King? What happens to his wife and children?” Allard was surprised that was her stance.

“Has time changed you?” Allard said, taking a bite of some rotting tasting leaks. For his teeth, Selmond insists. “You were a bolder woman once.”

Raven shook her head dismissively. “Despite everything you think of me, I am always here when my family needs me.” Raven added moving towards the door. “Now if you’d excuse me m’Lord of Vanguard, I haven’t had a proper bath in several months.”

And with a half bow Raven left.

Damn her. Damn them all. They all think they have the answer. But how am I to let my brother rot in a dungeon a continent away for the rest of his life and consider that mercy? It is not pride to try and take care of your little brother.

“Lord Allard?” Selmond interrupted.

“Yes. Apologies Master Selmond.” Allard said, moving towards him. “See this book to the archive won’t you? And with great prudence.”

“Yes, my lord.” Selmond bowed as Allard passed him the book.

Allard finished his medicines for his aging bones and departed making his way to the dinner hall. Inside his family was all gathered for the first time in a week, and they were ready for him. Servants waiting on the walls snapped into motion at his sight, serving up the food onto the plates laid out as Allard took his seat at the head of the table.

On his right Ryla squeezed his arm quietly with a smile. They did not interrupt Kiann as he told them of the hunt he and Master Nickle had led to help wear out the younger lords.

“And phew, the arrow that pierced its lungs. The deer shrieked so loudly my ears nearly burst.” Kiann emoted as alive as ever when he told his stories around the table. “Master Nickle instructed Calex Rant to put the beast out of its misery, as the archer who struck him. But the lad couldn’t bring himself to do it. He’s a boy of nineteen! And he couldn’t deliver a blow of mercy.” Kiann mocked.

“Give the boy a break.” Allard said. “He’s from the Claim. His father’s sworn to the Reapers. They’re farmers up north, not hunters.”

“Be that as it may he threw the arrow and Master Nickle wouldn’t move until the job was done.” Kiann continued as food began to fill the table. “As he flailed about, the other young lords had gathered and began to snicker at the mess.”

“And I trust you weren’t amongst those, nephew.” Ryla said.

“Never, aunt. In truth I felt for him. You could see the panic on his pretty face.” Kiann said. “But then Den Gallen, a boy of eight no bigger than my sword, came up and sliced the deer’s neck without a word. Master Nickle wasn’t too pleased but it stopped the laughter.”

“So they’re all like that?” Leo asked.

“Who is like what?” Allard replied.

“The Gallens.” Leo continued.

“The Gallens are quick with their patience and bold with their truths. But they’re loyal folk and their house is as old as Astarre.” Allard said. If only he knew a week ago that Locke Gallen would only the start of his troubles to come when they found his brother.

After they returned to Vanguard Locke was one of the first to return home having made his position clear. He left three of his sons with some retainers behind as a presence. Allard was thankful for that.

“Eight is still young.” Ryla commented. “Imagine if Leo was old to a hunt by then.”

Allard just nodded in agreement. Eight was young but Leo was nearly eight and ten. He was decent with a sword in practice but had little love for a hunt. Allard only blamed himself for not having enough time to train the boy like his father did.

“How many did you catch then, cousin?” Elsa inquired.

“Our count came to three boar, two deer, a few birds, and a badger. Although I’m not sure what you do with a badger.” Kiann said, his thoughts not resting on it too long. “There was also a second party of knights and squires as well so I’m sure they caught something.”

Allard counted the figures in his head. How much will those same lords and knights and squires feed on tonight? All the boar, grain, wheat, logs that this had cost them. The longer it went on the more costly it became. And then there was the food in front of them. “Pray to the Father our harvest is plentiful.” He muttered, as a prayer.

“Lord Reaper’s bounty grows every year.” Ryla assured. “The Claim’s granaries store enough to feed the entire Forelands all winter. There’s no need to stress.”

“No need to stress!?” Allard spat. “My baby brother’s lost his mind and is accused of treason. Every lord fills my halls giving prudent advice simply so they can claim they were in the right the next time they need something. And I alone must bear the cross should this all end in bloodshed.”

The air in the halls chilled at his anguish. He felt ashamed that he let himself go like that in front of the children.

“My love, there’s no cause for violence here.” Ryla said, attempting to comfort him.

“Lesser things have started wars.” Allard countered.

Ryla caught herself. The whole table did as they sat quietly. The wooden walls echoed in the tension. The pressures of the day all at once released on them all. It isn’t fair, Allard thought, it isn’t their trouble.

“Forgive me, I forgot myself.” Allard said, recollecting his manner. “I’ve been so hectic as of late I’ve misplaced my courtesies.”

“No, father.” Elsa said. “We want to know.”

“You burden yourself alone, but you needn’t.” Ryla added.

“We are here for you father.” Leo finished.

Allard looked up at their faces all waiting on him. Ryla as stalwart as ever, Kiann nearly a man grown, and the twins more mature than ever. All of them steadfast in their will to assist Allard in whatever ways they can, he realized.

“What could a man do to earn such a family?” Allard smirked. “Let us eat for now. We can blather better with full stomachs.”

“ith that they all began to eat into their meal. The air was stiff at first but soon enough it warmed up once again. Leo spoke of Lord Tyster’s daughter whom he labelled a kind girl but more interested in her own thoughts than his. Elsa informed Ryla of the baker boy to which Ryla insisted she would reimburse Sir Ansel his silver punt. When the topic of Raven was raised Kiann was quick to move the subject along, no doubt a soft spot for the lad. Allard was grateful for the chance to talk of something else, to listen to them.

As the food started to dwindle a tensed fist from Ryla caught Allard’s attention. “What is it?” Allard asked as he followed her sight to the candelabra on the table. Perched beside a flame a moth of violet furr sat silently. “Tis only a moth.” Allard, chuckled. Ryla remained stuff nonetheless. “You have lizards as big as hounds in the Overbrim and this startles you?” Allard asked Ryla.

“They do not fly into my bedroom or perch on my dinner table.” Ryla replied.

Elsa and Kiann also moved back from the thing. In fear of what Allard did not know.

Allard kept an eye on the thing. He struggled to identify the species, it was certainly bigger than any he had seen before.

“Mayhaps we could fetch Master Slemond. He could try to name the thing.” Kiann said.

“Or mayhaps fetch a broom.” Ryla japed.

Allard nodded at Kiann, a good thought. But before he could send someone Leo spoke. “It’s not a moth. It’s a bane butterfly. And you shouldn’t kill it, it’s mating season.”

“What should we do with it?” Elsa asked.

“Nothing. It knows what to do.” Leo said leaning over and with a single huff extinguished the candle’s flame that drew its sight. With the light gone the creature spread its mosaic wings and flew away without a sound.