The hall was grand, huge beams supported the high risen ceiling and the stone pillars that bore their weight were strong and sturdy with lit torches mounted upon them. The hall must have been a good hundred and thirty feet in length and probably just over half that length wide. Towards the north end, the floor was raised, a portion big enough to hold a long table that could sit up to forty bodies and the table was ladened with a banquet fit for a King. 

It was a good job it was, as King Rowan of Greystone sat in the centre of the table, hosting his guests from Havemoore. Rowan Greystone was mid-thirties and had sat the throne for a good ten years now, since the passing of his father. He suited the crown, many thought him just and fair, the Havenmoore’s paid their dues without any quarrels and hoped and prayed for a long and prosperous friendship. Rowan was quite a stout man, built well and a good six foot tall, maybe more. His hair was shoulder length, black with specks of grey. His beard full, yet properly trimmed, maybe half inch in length. His eyes a firm hazel brown, but also welcoming.  

Rowan had taken a Lady from one of the other Isles as his wife and queen, Lady Boyen of Guarn, we will learn about Guarn another time, but it was one of the more favourable houses at the time. Boyen was slim, slender and bolstering good assets in the required regions to make any man drool and whimper. Her hair was a lock of golden blonde and her eyes a steely blue. She was usually quiet, but everyone knew, it was her council that guided the King. 

Boyen had given Rowan three healthy children, two boys and one girl. The eldest boy, named after his father, to keep the line of succession in good stead, Prince Rowan, was nearing the age of Fourteen, the age in which boys were expected to mature into men and marry. Prince Rowan’s younger brother Prince James (named after Boyen’s father) was only eight years of age, and his sister Camille, six. Each of the children took after their mother, bright blonde hair adorned their heads, and the steely blue eyes were somewhat softened by youthfulness. While Prince Rowan was nearing Fourteen however, he had not yet been betrothed to another, unlike his younger brother and sister, who already had marriages arranged, James to a young Lady in the land of Guarn, who was a distant relative, but nothing that would be incestuous or cause the faith to step in, and Camille to a young Lord in another Isle. Promises that had been made at their births to help maintain peace in the realm. 

There were more siblings, but of course, they were all bastards, and never carried the Greystone name, nor ever welcomed into the castle. Where King Rowan’s bastards were was anyones guess, and how many he had was another. But it is said they were looked after, hush money probably, to prevent any form of contention to the throne. 

The castle hall was bustling, the Havenmoore’s had arrived from the North of the Isle with over a 100 bannermen, a similar number of servants, all the horses and donkeys required to transport them all, which required stableboys and groomers as well. All in all, the Havenmoore’s party must have been over 500 strong, if not more. 

Lord Havenmoore, Erin Havenmoore to be precise, was probably equal in body and looks to the King, suppose he should be, given he was the King’s cousin, and a close cousin at that, his fathers, brothers son. You might mistake them for being identical if it wasnt for Erin missing his left hand which he lost in battle a few years ago after a quarrel with pirates trying to invade from the Northern Sea’s. But that... That is another tale. Erin was married to Hellena, a daughter to a High Lord on one of the furthest Isle’s from Greystone itself. The marriage was arranged by Rowan for similar reasons his youngest son and daughter were betrothed. To keep peace and loyalty close at hand. While these precautions had been taken, Rowan’s council had tried to encourage the King to look closer to home.  

Hellena, a quiet woman, a dark brunette, not as slender as Boyen, she had a plump face, and slightly plumper body to match. It was though there wasn't a way to differentiate where her head stopped and her chest began, they seemed to meld into one. She had a nose, a nose that majority of the Isle mocked her for behind her back, it was large and broad, flat across her face. Her skin was more olive tanned than the Greystone locals, who in their cooler climate, were very fair skinned. Hellena had ‘THE’ resting bitch face. She always looked like she was about to lose her temper any moment, but barely spoke any words.  

Erin was Rowan’s ‘Isle Protector’. Rowan’s ancestors over a few centuries ago assigned Protectors of each Isle when the Kingdom became one. The responsibility of a Protector was to uphold the King’s justice and fend off anyone who might wish to either invade or attack the Kingdom.  

Erin didn’t so much dislike his position, he just always felt it was a little beneath him, well if Rowan’s father was not in the picture, it would have been Erin sat on the throne now, rather than Rowan, but Erin never had any negative feelings towards his cousin, only admiration and loyalty. With each new King, comes new Protector’s and Rowan had chosen Erin to be his, and then arranged the marriage to Hellena to secure his position and provide heirs, should anything ever befall Erin. Though this was an issue, Hellena had borne Heir’s for Erin, but only girls, and as the faith dictated, girls could not be protectors. It was thought they lacked the strength and courage of men. 

Unbeknown to the King, Hellena had mentioned on several occasions to Erin that they should propose a betrothal of their eldest daughter to Prince Rowan and have one of their children announced the Heir to Havenmoore should Erin and herself be unable to produce a male heir. But each time Erin faltered on the proposition and the conversation never led anywhere. 

The feast now in full swing, the Fool prancing around just in front of the long table, literally living up to his name as the twat himself was drunk beyond belief and causing more havoc than humour. The parties of Greystone’s and Havenmoore’s talking, jesting and sometimes arguing across large tables below the King’s. Boyen smiled and turned to Hellena, 

‘Your dress is beautiful Hellena, you must divulge your secret seamstress’ Boyen giggled. Hellena looked at her and cracked a smile for the first time this evening, Boyen though her face might cave in at the stress it seemed to put on her skull and skin. 

‘My Grace, these fabrics are not fit for a Queen so beautiful, but I will mention your interest to her, and maybe she can find more exquisite fabrics.’ Hellena finished then sipped more wine, or rather gulped.  

Erin was sat to the right of the King, 

‘How is life in the north of the Isle?’ Rowan asked his cousin. 

‘You mean with the bitch that never smiles?’ Erin laughed, cautiously looking past the King to make sure Hellena hadn’t heard him. 

‘She grieves me so much cousin. There is always something pressing on those miserable lips, and it's always questions and recommendations. The passion is lost on her.’ He swallowed another chug of his ale, 

‘Things are that bad?’ Rowan asked. 

‘If the bitch had half the chance, she’d probably drive a sword through me.’ Erin stated more confidently now the music had started by the bards. ‘She hates it here on Greystone, she hates me, and she hates that fact that we have borne no son’s, which means no Heir’s for me, and none for her father. She blames the seed cousin.’ his fingers drummed on the table in contemplation. Rowan saw his cousin blaming himself. 

‘You have remained loyal to her, and that is all you can do cousin. What of these questions she asks?’ Rowan felt like he might be prying too deeply now.  

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

‘Betrothal of our eldest daughter...’ Erin began before Rowan interrupted, 

‘To which Lord, or Lords son?’ 

‘Thats just it...’ he sighed heavily, ‘Yours cousin. Your Heir to the throne!’ he hung his head, knowing he had just let Hellena win. 

‘We can’t cousin, we are too closely related, the Gods would see it as incestuous and a great sin if we allowed them to bare children onto the world. Rowan explained with great compassion in his voice. Erin said nothing, he was disappointed with himself, the discussion went no further for the rest of the night. But Erin’s mood never seemed to really pick backup, even when the brawls between the drunks started and everyone else was cheering at the fresh entertainment. 

As the night neared the end, men were strooned asleep all over the hall, some on tables, some on the floor, some had even passed out where they sat. The fires in the hearths and the torches of the pillars glowed dimly. The children had all gone to their beds by the night nursemaids and the King and Queen had retired to their bedchamber. However, Erin and Hellena were still sat at the great longtable. 

‘You and your cousin seemed to discuss much.’ She said, Erin knowing she was prying to see if he had mentioned the betrothal. 

‘Aye, and it was nothing that concerns you woman!’ His tone bitter and hard. She sat up abruptly, 

‘Don't you dare...’ She was interrupted before she could finish her sentence. 

‘You will do well to remember your place Hellena, I am a tolerant man, but there is only so much rope I can hand out before it snaps!’ His tone had softened slightly, but it was still coarse, and she felt it cut deep. 

‘All I mean is that it would strengthen our House’s, and our claims and titles, is it too much to ask?’ Her voice warbled a little, as though she wasn’t sure she should be pushing her luck. 

‘I never brought it up with him if you must know.’ Erin lied. Erin hated lying, he deemed it to be a sin and thought that the Gods would think lesser of him. ‘Now can we put this issue to bed and be done with it?’ He asked her, knowing full well he would tell her the truth when they were leagues away from Greystone and she could not contest him in the presence of his cousin and his Queen.  

Hellena tried a different approach, she sighed and bowed her head. She forced, as best she could, a tear from her eyes, that rolled down her cheek and dropped onto the heavy wooden table. Erin looked at her, there was no passion or love for this woman anymore, but seeing a woman cry damn near broke the man.  

‘We will find suitable marriages for our daughters and soon have an Heir, fear not Hellena, it doesn’t have to be the prince.’ he attempted to comfort her with words, no hand or arm of his approached her for comfort, and the words seemed to have little effect.  

Hellena stood abruptly and then hurried off in the way of the bed chambers, ‘What am I to do?’ thought Erin. Divorce was not an option, and he probably had more bastards out there in the Kingdom than the King himself, since sex had been scarce in the relationship for nearly seven years now. As the night drew on, darkness through the narrow windows turned into a deep blue and Erin had drunk himself into the abyss of sleep.  

It was close to the third hour of the day when the prince and James entered the courtyard of the castle, each of the boys brandishing wooden swords, occasionally both coming together and splinters shaving off when they met. Both boys were laughing and their movements more like dancing as they sparred with one another. 

‘You will name me Isle Protector!’ proclaimed James at the top of his lungs, 

‘Never dear Brother! You do not possess the courage not the stout!’ Rowan swung his wooden sword and met his younger brother's downward lunge. 

They had failed to notice their father approaching, the King joined by two of his Council, High Priest Harold the Broken and Grand General Lune. 

‘Come on now boys, this is nor the time nor the place for such flakiness.’ The High Preist ushered the boys along. The yard was busy with the bustle of the Havenmoore party packing up ready to move. Erin was at the head talking to the leader of his household guard when the King approached. 

‘My cousin, I feared my ears were deceiving me when I was told you are leaving?’ the King said wearily, not sure if he wanted to understand why. 

‘I am afraid it is so my Grace, pressing matters need addressing with my court, and I do not wish to burden you with such trivial matters, and staying here, I fear they may just cause uncomfortableness.’ Erin placed a hand on his cousin's shoulder. ‘Do not worry though, we may get drunk again before the year is out.’ He forced out a laugh. 

‘I will hold you to that one!’ the King proclaimed 

Lune stepped forward, ‘Bandits have been seen on the road, just before the river,’ his voice was hoarse and Erin wasn’t sure if that was the ale from the night before, or just if that's how Lune always sounded. ‘I have sent word to the garrison to provide a hundred of our soldiers to escort you.’ And with that Lune bowed his head to both the King and the Lord and took his leave. Harold was the next to approach, 

‘I have dispatched a Kings Kestrel to Havenmoore this morn, to advise your Regent to send soldiers to the river to meet you.’ Again, Harold bowed to both and then left. 

‘Thank you, cousin, for everything.’ Erin smiled and then turned to mount his horse at the head of his procession. Hellena was mounted on her horse already, no goodby for the King from her. It left a bad taste in Rowan’s mouth, like someone had just slammed the door in his face and his mouth now filled with the tang of blood.  

Rowan would not let this bother him though, he shook it off a bid them both a farewell and even extended the courtesy that they were always welcome at Castle Greystone.  

A few carts and horses had past the King when Boyen joined her husband’s side, 

‘According to sources, there were bitter words exchanged between them last night.’ Boyen said under her breath so none of the Havenmoore party could hear her, 

‘I fear for him Boyen, I really do.’ Rowan recalled how low Erin had seemed the night before, and how abrupt and blunt Hellena had look and acted. ‘But it is not our affair to meddle in.’ The King spoke wisely. Boyen place a hand on his arm, tip-toed to place a small kiss on his cheek and left him and his guards to see of the Havenmoore’s. 

The castle courtyard fell quiet once again, apart from the usual day-to-day business of carts pulling in with fresh flour and grain, chambermaids emptying and cleaning bedpans and stable boys trotting out the horses for their morning rides. But the commotion of a great host no longer filled the yard. Lune had re-emerged once the last of the Havenmoore party had departed, 

‘My Grace, it is time for court and then a council meeting.’ Lune bowed his head once more. Lune was well respected by Rowan, they had fought bandits and pirates, even quashed an uprising with the Havenmoore’s by their side, and Rowan owed a great debt to Lune, making his Grand General was just one way he could repay him. Lune was tall and broad; his armour and cloak made him grander than the title could ever. He was bald, with a squared jaw, and thick black eyebrows. He had been born in Greystone, outside of the Castle walls in a lower part of town but had risen the ranks by proving his loyalty and skill in battle. 

‘By your leave the Lune.’ Rowan gave leave to his general and followed him up towards his keep.