Pirin and Gray sprinted across the terrace, toward the waiting doors into the palace. Two Sirdian guards stood outside with spears and tower shields, and they took fighting stances when Pirin didn’t break off his course.
“Who are you?” they demanded. “Announce yourself! No one is allowed into the palace at this time, not without permission of the council!”
“You don’t remember me?” Pirin slowed to a trot, then pulled his black hair away from his pointed ears. If they didn’t remember his face, they’d know who he was now.
“My…my lord?” Both the soldiers turned to glance as each other. “We thought you were dead. Everyone did.”
“You didn’t get the army I sent you?” Pirin tilted his head. “The weavelings?”
“You sent them?”
Pirin narrowed his eyes, then stopped before the guards. They both lifted their spears up, but didn’t budge away from the door. “Who do you think sent them?”
“We…we weren’t sure. The lords have been saying that a secret ally of ours across the sea, a powerful wizard, sent them.” The guard on the left looked Pirin up and down, no doubt fixating on the runic markings. “We didn’t know it was you, and the lords of the city certainly didn’t say!”
“Where are they?” Pirin asked.
“The…the lords?” The second guard swallowed nervously. They were both Sirdian elves, and both mortals.
“Yes. Where are they?”
“My lord, we have orders to keep out anyone, even a Sirdian official, for the safety of the lords. No Representatives of the Common, no marshals, nothing.”
Pirin growled under his breath. Ivescent’s underlings, as petty and useless as ever. “They’re going to destroy this city if they have their way. Why aren’t the catapults firing? Why aren’t they consulting with the marshals? Is there no one among the defenders of this city who will listen to reason?”
Both the guards said nothing.
“You would prevent your wizard-king from saving you? Isn’t this what I was supposed to do? I can’t help if I can’t get into the palace.” He tried to look as stern as possible, but not overbearing. Behind him, Gray fluffed out her feathers, spreading herself nearly twice as wide as before.
The guards stepped aside and pointed their spears straight up. The guard on the left of the door said, “The lords are in the war-council chamber. West wing, the tower across buttress-bridge.”
Pirin nodded. “Thank you.” He heaved the two doors open with a single push, then said, “Wanna come with me? It’ll look more imposing, though you won’t have to do a thing.”
Both the guards nodded. “Yes, sir. We’re with you.”
Pirin remembered the layout of the palace well enough. He followed the tall hallways, walking briskly. There weren’t enough hearths or torches to heat such a large building, and they barely lit it all, but it was warmer and brighter than outside. The windows rattled in the wind, and interior guards shifted, but Pirin, with his supposed escort, passed by them without trouble.
His boots echoed with each step, creating a trail of booms as he crossed the palace. He didn’t try to mask his footsteps. The lords needed to know that someone was approaching, and someone important. He let Essence fill his channels and enhance his footsteps, helping him be louder without damaging the floor.
When he reached the buttress-bridge, he pushed open the doors and crossed an open-air bridge to a thick tower at the edge of the tower complex. The bridge itself had railings with merlons, but there were no defenders on it. From such a vantage, he could only see the southern wall of the city, but the lip of the Sheercliff hid most of the Dominion army, and if he didn’t look too hard, he might not have known the city was under attack at all.
For now, that was a good thing, but he needed to get the defenders all into action.
He crossed the bridge and pushed open the doors of the tower. Gray asked, Should I stay here?
“There’s room inside,” Pirin said. The tower had double-doors, and they were wide enough for Gray to fit through. “And I think you’ll be helpful in convincing the lords.”
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Oh, oh, can I spread my wings again, and maybe flap a little?
“Sure.”
Maybe I’ll chirp and intimidate them?
“We don’t want to take it too far…we still need them on our side.”
Both the guards stared at him, and he recalled that the guards could only hear half his conversation. He looked at them and said, “It’ll be fine,” then walked into the room beyond.
He passed through the doors and emerged in the war council chambers. It was a small room with a low ceiling and dim candlelighting, and a long table down the center. There were about twenty chairs along the edge, and only ten elves in the seats. They wore deep blue robes, white sashes, and were all mortals. Most had gray or white hair falling in braids down their backs.
“My lords,” Pirin said as he entered.
A few jumped up in fright as soon as he barged in, making the papers and maps on the table flutter.
“Guards!” said a lord near the back, an aging elf with a missing ear-tip. “Arrest this ruffian. He should not be here!”
Two more mortal elven guards stood inside the doors. They grew short swords and turned toward Pirin.
He stepped into the light, and Gray fluffed out her chest, then spread her wings. “Ah, ah,” Pirin scolded, holding up a finger. “You wouldn’t arrest your king, would you? I have more authority than any of the elves present in this room, and you will listen to me. Take a seat, everyone.”
The lords didn’t move.
An elf near the front took a step toward Pirin. “For your safety, your majesty, please return to your chambers. We will manage the defense of the city as we see fit. Guards, please escort the Embercore—”
“And, that’s the problem, isn’t it?” Pirin chuckled. “You’re not defending the city very well. You’re running my kingdom into the ground. No more.”
The same lord who had spoken before narrowed his eyes. Three noble crests were embroidered on his sash, identifying the three provinces he ruled over. Powerful, wealthy, and arrogant. “The chancellor isn’t here to protect you any more, boy. If you have any news of import, speak it, then leave the leadership to those who know what they’re doing.”
“I see no marshals here.” Pirin grinned, fully aware of the insult he’d given them. “We’re going to muster the Aerdian army, and they’re going to help us.”
“The Aerdians?” a different lord exclaimed. “We can’t trust those orangecloaks to help us! Even if we could, it would take weeks to muster their full force, not to mention march it north.”
Pirin sighed. “I guess Ivescent didn’t let you in on the plan, then. The good news is that the Aerdians have mustered around Vel Aerdeil. Their army is just waiting for a signal before they march north and help us break the lines of the Dominion.” He placed the branch of the throne on the table with an emphatic thud. “This, my lords, is our salvation.”
“This is absurd!” a different lord called. “You hinge our survival on your vanity, picturing yourself the wizard-king of a united Khirdia!”
“The throne will only bloom for a wildflame!”
“I say we’re done with him,” the first lord snarled, then drew an ornamented short sword from the sheath at his hip. “No one has to know how it happened. For the sake of the kingdom, the Embercore cannot be put in charge.” He took yet another step toward Pirin. “The Chancellor can’t save you now. You take us for spineless fools?”
The guards inside the room pointed their swords at the lord, and the two behind Pirin levelled their spears. Pirin raised his hand and said, “Leave him to me.”
“Your mistake, boy,” the lord snapped.
“Yeah. Alright.”
He lunged at Pirin, but Pirin had already stepped aside, moving indifferently. The guard’s sword swished through empty air. With a Shattered Palm, Pirin struck the lord in the sternum and flung him into the wall. Bone cracked, and the stones shuddered beneath him. He fell to the ground below, breathing ragged breaths. He’d live, but he’d remember this day for the rest of his life.
Pirin then unveiled his spirit entirely and cycled with the most complex pattern he could muster. Pressure rolled off him in waves, and though he wasn’t yet a Wildflame, his strength was enough to make the lords gasp and cow down under the immense weight.
“Take a seat,” Pirin demanded. “I left to gain strength, to become a wizard-king worthy of ruling, and I have achieved that. You will respect what you’ve created. Now, someone tell me this: why are the trebuchets quiet?”
He released the pressure and veiled himself. The lords all scrambled back to their chairs and settled down.
Two lords glanced at each other, and one finally said, “We were worried it would reflect poorly on our defense, your majesty, and cause unnecessary panic in the city. We didn’t need a revolt inside out.”
Pirin raised his eyebrows, then said, “Thanks for being candid, at least.” He turned to one of the guards who’d escorted him and said, “Go into the palace. Find the eldest Sirdian marshal in the city, and give him complete control over the city’s defenses. He is to protect the city with any means at his disposal. Tell him the order comes from me.”
“Yes, my lord.” The guard dipped his head, then backed away and ran back across the bridge.
“As for you ten…nine, I’m temporarily stripping you of your rank and station. You may remain in the palace, but you’re not to deliver an order to even the lowliest of soldiers. We’ll defend this city, despite your best efforts otherwise.”
“My lord…the branch?” a lord asked meekly. “You will muster the Aerdians, yes?”
Pirin plucked the branch up and showed it to them. “A chunk of Essence-infused wood from the throne of Vel Aerdeil.” He shut his eyes, then drew on his stored supply of Essentia and poured it into the chunk of wood.
He’d been gathering Essentia for days, setting his Essence ablaze and turning it iridescent-clear.
Now, how poured it all into the branch.